


An Orchard in Sleepy Hollow

by rachelladeville



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cannon level violence, Canon Divergent, Cas is human but is not "Steve", Case Fic, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, M/M, human cas, supernatural universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:36:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelladeville/pseuds/rachelladeville
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam have gone to Sleepy Hollow to investigate killings that the locals believe to have been perpetrated by the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow...</p><p>By the way, it's not necessary to remember what happened in episodes 2 and 3 of season 2. But this story was written to smoosh between them. Oh yeah, and never mind that whole angel thing from later seasons... in this story Cas is a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome To Sleepy Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry folks... no beta this time... all mistakes are mine.

 

“Agents Bloom and Braunstein” said Dean tersely as he and Sam stood side by side, holding out their fake badges for the uniformed officer behind a large metal desk, “We’re here regarding the death of Darin Hansen.”

“I’ll get Detective Camp for you,” she said with a smile, holding up a finger to indicate she needed a moment. They put away their badges and waited as she called back and told the detective that the FBI was here to see him. They weren’t waiting long.

The detective rounded the corner with his arm already extended to shake hands, “Agents, welcome to Sleepy Hollow,” he said warmly as he shook with each of them, “What can I do for you?”

“We’re investigating the death of Darin Hansen,” said Dean as he met the man’s eye and watched for how he’d react. The man was clearly nearing retirement. His hair and beard were both grey and his movements were slow. His accent was very local, his eyes held no distrust and his manner was both kind and welcoming.

The detective nodded and said, “Sorry if it’s a waste of your time, but I’m glad someone’s here to double check things… strange circumstances and all…”

The brothers followed the detective to the back. The police station itself was small. From the outside it hadn’t looked much like a police station at all. It was red brick with large windows and a clock tower. In addition to the police station, this building also housed the fire department. As they stepped into detective Camp’s office, which was more of a cubicle, they noticed there was only one chair. Dean grinned at Sam’s bitch face as he sank into it and left his brother standing.

The detective pulled a chair from an adjacent cubicle over and Sam nodded a thank you as he seated himself next to his brother. As the detective settled into his chair, Deans eyes dipped to the name plate on his desk which read: Detective Gerald Camp. There was a picture next to the name plate which was obviously the detective and his wife. She was as jolly in appearance as he was, and they each held a grandchild in their laps.

“Cute kids” said Dean with a charming smile. As expected, it got the man talking. Both he and Sam listened to him tell about his grandchildren for a few minutes before following up with questions.

“Usually pretty quiet around here, huh?”

“Yep. Normally our biggest problem is robberies. We don’t see much of the murder and rape that plagues the metropolitan areas.”

Dean nodded. “So, the Hansen boy, anything suspicious?”

“Nope, in fact agents, I’m sorry you’ve wasted a trip. But, it looks like a case of accidental death. Folks round here just like to sensationalize everything,” he apologized lightly with a smile, “Specially this time of year.”

“Yeah, Halloween in Sleepy Hollow. I never even knew this was a real place,” chuckled Dean looking to Sam – who’d been quiet so far.

“Yep,” nodded the detective, “We used to just be North Tarrytown. But a few decades ago, it was changed to Sleepy Hollow in honor of the headless horseman book. And,” he added as he leaned forward in his chair, “so the locals could make a few bucks off of it.”

“I see,” said Sam, joining in, “And what kind of business does that bring in?”

“Bed and Breakfast crowd mostly,” answered the detective with a sharp grin, “Folks that wanna make a day out of pumpkin patches and apple orchards… maybe hit a haunted house to wake themselves up for half an hour.”

Sam and Dean both chuckled.

“Of course,” continued Detective Camp, “this time of year it does pick up a bit. We get a little younger crowd. There’s a local witch that puts together a few events. There's booths where they can sell their little crystals and beads uptown, hell, she even puts on a dance the night before Halloween. Witches Ball. She's been doin it a few years now – everyone dresses up in costumes. Took the wife last year. It wasn’t too bad,” he acknowledged as he settled back in his chair again. “Tourism board takes the historical buildings down the street here,” he said as he pointed over his shoulder, “and turns them into a haunted house type deal… folks walk through the property and get the snot scared out of em. It’s all done in keeping with the period, so, no chainsaws and shit like they do at the big haunted houses. But it’s done real well – they got real make-up artists and stuff. Gives the bigger outfits a run for their money. That usually runs for a few weeks leading up to Halloween.”

“Is that where the vic…”Dean paused, catching himself. There was no victim if this was an accidental death, “Is that where Mr. Hansen was when the accident happened?”

“Nope. Accident happened nearby though. Across Broadway,” Camp gestured over his shoulder, indicating the road out front which was the main road through town. "It happened over at the cemetery.”

“Sleepy Hollow Cemetery?” clarified Sam.

“Yep. The one and only,” replied Camp, “they do their own thing. Weekends only though. It’s a hayride through the cemetery at night. They cross the wooden bridge and as soon as they get to the other side - a rider dressed as the horseman comes galloping out of the woods. He circles the wagon and gets a good scream out of everybody then rides off. It’s a popular thing. Anyway, Darin worked for both places. But it was the hayride where he had his accident. Horse wandered up to the hayride full of tourists with no rider. Horse was probably used to the route. Anyway, the driver of the hayride called it in and we took to the woods til we found him. Broken neck. Must’ve fallen off his horse. Poor kid.”

“Well thanks Detective,” said Dean as he rose from his seat, “We appreciate the hospitality.”

“Here’s my card,” said Sam as he leaned in over the desk, “Give us a call if anything strange comes up?”

“You’ve got it, agent,” said the detective. He didn’t get up so they showed themselves out. When they stepped back out into the cool, autumn air Dean thumped Sam on the shoulder. “I drove all night for this?”

They headed back to the Impala and began looking for a place to eat. Right on the corner was a restaurant called The Horseman. They parked and went in. The décor wasn’t especially themed, equally dull as any other diner they’d visited, with the exception of the menus which boasted an image of the headless horseman. The ambiance may have been less than expected, but the food was delicious. The brothers had their fill and then headed back to the car with full bellies.

“I need my four hours,” complained Dean as he slid back into the driver’s seat.

Sam, looking at his phone, said, “We may as well check out the Hanson family first. They just live right over there.”

Dean followed his brother’s finger which was pointing back to the north and navigated the Impala back out onto the main road.

“That the cemetery?” Dean asked, nodding to an old church surrounded by crumbling tombstones.

“Yep,” answered Sam - seeming glad to be given an opening, “It’s over 90 acres and has several famous interments including none other than Washington Irving… the author of ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’.”

“You’re geekiness knows no bounds, Sammy.”

“Andrew Carnegie and Walter Chrysler are buried there as well. And this cemetery is believed to be the location of the actual demise of Ichabod crane.”

"On the bridge that the detective mentioned?” asked Dean, interested despite himself.

“Nope. The one that would’ve been standing during that time period has rotted away. No one’s even sure of where exactly it was located. There have been several built since, including the one Detective Camp was talking about which is still in use.”

“So is the story real or made up?” asked Dean.

“It’s fictional, but there are enough references to real things that people have a tendency to consider it a legend rather than just a story.”

Dean nodded and directed his attention back to the road. “Where’s my turn?”

Sam, realizing he'd not been paying attention, glanced down at the map on his phone. “Back there,” he conceded, admitting they'd missed their turn.

“Sammy,” Dean huffed through gritted teeth.

“Two blocks,” said Sam defensively as Dean turned around to head back the way they’d come. Dean rolled his eyes as they turned into ‘Sleepy Hollow Manor’. He'd been in town a few hours and he was already getting sick of the theme. When they rang the bell at 50 Freemont Lane, they had their badges ready.

“Agents Bloom and Braunstein,” they said in unison as the door was opened to them. The dark haired beauty who answered nodded in acknowledgment and quietly stepped aside to let them in. She was young, pretty and soft spoken.

“We’re here to speak with the family of Darin Hansen,” said Sam.

“Well I’m it agents," she replied firmly, "what can I help you with?”

“What is your relation to the deceased?”

“I’m his sister. But since our parents died last year, I’ve been caring for him.”

Sam’s puppy eyes are fully out now. He leans in and offers what Dean is certain is a truly heartfelt apology for her circumstances.

“Why is the FBI here?” she asked as she showed them into the living room.

“We’re just crossing the I’s and dotting the T’s” said Dean as he settled on the sofa across from her.

“I’m sure you mean dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s, right agent?”

Dean gave her a nod and looked at his shoes, embarrassed. Sam stepped in then, leaning forward and looking her in the eye. “I know this is a difficult time for you. We just have a few routine questions and then we’ll be on our way.”

She gave a nod and answered all of Sam's questions. She explained that she and her brother were orphaned last year when their parent’s car was hit by a drunk driver. She’d dropped out of NYU and moved home to settle her parent’s estate and care for her brother.

Dean isn’t paying any attention as his brother asks the girl about any strange behavior by her brother in the days leading up to his death. He’s not even listening when his brother asks her if she noticed any cold spots in the house. What holds Dean's attention is the way Sammy is looking at this girl… the way he’s treating her. She’s a delicate china cup in the hands of a very careful man. Dean counts twice that his brother's eyes dip to her lips and once to the necklace around her neck.

When the room grew quiet, Dean realized he'd not been paying attention and had no idea why silence had fallen. Wishing he'd been paying attention to the conversation, he ventured the only question that was likely unasked. “That’s an interesting necklace, where did you get it?”

“It was his actually," she said with a half smile, "It belonged to my brother. It's an engagement ring.” Dean watched her clench her chin in an effort not to cry as she continued, “He was going to ask Suzi to marry him. That night. She was on the hayride… he was going to ride out as usual but after he gave everyone a good scare, he was going to dismount and propose. He’d okayed it with his supervisor and everything… they had plans to go to college together next year… I think he wanted to make it official.”

“I see,” fumbled Dean, feeling awkward, “So it’s a keepsake for you?”

“Yes, he was still wearing it when he was found. I know he’d want me to give it to her… tell her…” she said with her face crumbling, “But I can’t. I just can’t. Not yet.”

Sam laid his hand reassuringly over hers and she looked up at him and said, “I'll do it soon. When I’m strong enough.”

Dean didn’t want to be a buffoon and break the moment between them, so he waited quietly as Sam said something reassuring to her and then they stood to leave.

 

 

 

“We should visit Suzi,” said Sam as they climbed back into the Impala.

“Sam. There’s no case here, and I still need my four hours.”

“Dean…”

“Sam, you like her, I get it if you want to stick around for a few days and get to know her. But then what, huh? Just when she starts to really feel something… we leave? No good comes from you and ‘Miss Big Brown Eyes’ getting together.”

“Fine,” said Sam petulantly, “Head back to Bedford Road so we can get back over to Sawmill Parkway. There’s a hotel over there. When we wake up we can get on the road.”

Dean gave a nod as he steered his shiny black baby out of Sleepy Hollow Manor and onto the road.

“Sorry Sammy,” said Dean as he rolled his window down. And he was. He hated having to watch his brother want things and not have them. It was bad enough he’d said good-bye to his safe and happy life at Stanford. But added to that, the loss of Jessica would haunt him for life. And now, each time he saw Sam warm up to somebody, he had to make sure no attachments were formed. It sucked, but it was for his brothers own good. Hunting is a rough life and Dean had made his peace with it long ago. He now avoided attachments as second nature. Sammy just didn’t have it yet, that distance that keeps you from forming attachments to people. Beside him, Sam was silent as they drove through the quaint little town and back out into the country.

The trip was nice, pleasant, with the windows down and the radio on. All the roads seemed smaller here – more narrow. The trees that crowded the roadside were changing color, rich oranges and bright yellows. The late afternoon sun was casting a golden glow on the trees in the valleys that rolled beneath them as they roared along the highway, moving mostly uphill. They rounded a glassy lake, sparkling under soft sunshine, and were soon back on the parkway.

The vistas of fall countryside gave way to houses and gas stations as they progressed. They’d barely covered a few miles and already they were in the neighboring town of Elmsford. As afternoon gave way to evening they exited the parkway and pulled into to the Elmsford Hotel. It looked like their standard digs, with the exception of its shape. Rather than being a long building with a row of doors which was most common, this place was actually two separate buildings that were both L-shaped. They formed a horse shoe shape, guests entering through a space between buildings at the base of the horse shoe. The entrance took drivers right past the office - at the place where the buildings came together.

Dean smiled as they entered. The layout lent a feel of security to the parking lot and he liked thinking that this place was safer for his baby. But he also noted that this strategic set-up insured that comings and goings were likely noticed by staff and recorded on closed-circuit monitoring.

The room was on the nicer end of what they normally expected when checking in somewhere. Dean pulled a few little bottles out of the mini bar and turned on the TV. Sam settled on the other bed with his laptop. Dean didn’t ask what he was looking at. Knowing his brother, it was just more info on people who wrote books and then died in this tiny town a hundred years ago.

 

 

 

After a good sleep, Dean awakened to a dark room. He could tell he’d been asleep for several hours because he was stiff all over. Sam is still asleep on the other bed and the TV is still droning quietly in the background. He pays it little attention as he settles at the shitty little table in their room and takes apart his gun. With nothing better to do, he cleans it quietly and when finished he pulls back the corner of the curtain and looks outside. It's the middle of the night. With nothing else to do with himself until morning, he gently takes Sam’s laptop from his brother’s bed and pulls it into his lap. He mutes the sound and then begins looking up Busty Asian Beauties. After ten minutes of hot porn, he erases his search history and abandons the laptop for a long shower. A very long and very satisfying shower.

When Dean emerges later with a white hotel towel wrapped tightly around his hips, he feels refreshed. Sammy stirs awake as Dean dresses, sits up and puts two feet on the floor. Dean tugs on his boots and slips out to grab them some breakfast while Sam takes his shower. When he returns with coffee, doughnuts and a copy of today’s paper he settles at the little table. Something on the television screen catches Deans attention so he turns up the volume. The local news brings an unexpected turn of events with it.

“Sam?” hollered Dean as he heard the shower turn off.

“What?” his brother answered in a huff, cracking the bathroom door and hanging his head out.

“Umm… there’s definitely a case in this town.”

Sam wrapped his wet, muscled body in a hotel towel and stepped out into the main area. He settled at the foot of Dean’s bed and watched as the news reporter gave the known details of a murder in Sleepy Hollow that had occurred while they slept. It was witnessed by two people who both swore that the headless horseman had run down and killed the man.

“Ok,” said Sam, snapping to his feet, “Let’s get going.”

 

 

 

They suited up quickly and while Dean navigated the narrow roads and early morning traffic, Sam was reading aloud from the newspaper.

“It was his wife,” said Sam, “the wife saw her husband be run down by the headless horseman.”

Dean nodded, “You got any thoughts on this one?”

“Not really. The deaths are a bit close together for us to rule out the first vic as an accident. I don’t care what Camp thinks, these are homicides and they’re related.”

“Only in the fact that one of them was killed by the headless horseman and one of them WAS the headless horseman,” quipped Dean with his chin raised, proud of his joke.

When they arrived on scene, it was a mess. Murders in a small town usually are. A short distance away in New York City – crime scenes are handled with meticulous precision. But out here in the burbs? Most of these officers were probably working their very first crime scene... and making every rookie mistake in the book.

The murder had taken place on the same road they'd taken out of town yesterday. It was a quiet road and the properties on it were spaced quite far apart, each likely owning at least a few acres of land. The the address wasn’t hard to find with the red and blue flashing lights still drawing attention. As they pulled into the drive they passed a sign that named the place 'Rosenwinkle Farms' and then joined a cluster of police cruisers and fire trucks. There were some news vans too. Dean and Sam walked confidently to the police tape line and ducked it – looking like pro’s.

Officers were combing the grounds for clues and talking amongst themselves. The brothers approached Detective Camps and gave him a solemn nod before Dean leaned in and said, “What’ve we got?”

“Have a look for yourself agent,” said Camps morosely. He gestured around the corner of a very large house. Half way between the house and barn was the area that seemed most congested. As they drew nearer, they saw the body. It was prone on the grass with arms and legs sprawled unnaturally. The packed dirt and sparse grass did little to cover the gruesome injury to the neck. The spinal bone, surrounded by red meat and flaps of filleted skin was protruding abruptly. This was he center of attention for the group clustered around it. Dean glanced over to the smaller cluster of uniforms who were converged on what Dean assumed to be the vics head.

“Never seen anything like this before…” said Camps. Dean turned to look at him, having not realized he was still with them. “… Bet you see shit like this all the time… but not us… I should’ve called you boys right away, I suspect. It just slipped my mind in all the commotion.”

Dean nodded and said he needed to interview the witnesses. Camps gestured towards the back door of the house and gave him the names of those involved. Dean nodded to Sam who then engaged the detective while Dean headed inside. When he pushed through the door, a middle aged woman in a sweater and jeans was seated at the small table in the breakfast nook. She’d given her statement to police and was now signing it. As she handed the officer his pen back, a man in plain clothes was offering her a cup of coffee.

Dean watched her take it gratefully and sip with her eyes closed. Her hair was bleach blonde and her skin was leathery. She had the look of a used up trophy wife – one who was likely very fetching in her time. But clearly, her time had passed. The man looked to Dean so he stepped in and drew his badge.

“Agent Bloom, FBI.” He said to the man.

The man nodded and introduced himself to Dean, explaining he was the brother of the victim. He went on to say that he’d been living here for a while now and had witnessed the attack. Dean watched him settle down next to the widow. Both witnesses gave him their attention and he began by simply asking them to describe what they’d seen. He watched the widow’s shoulders slump.

“I’m sorry,” said Dean reaching out and putting his hand on her thigh, “I know it gets tiresome re-hashing this for everyone. But it’s part of the process for us.” He watched her come to life under his palm. Yep. Lonely. No one had laid a hand on this woman in quite a while. She’d tell him everything he needed and more. He met her eye and gave her his most reassuring smile. He left his hand on her thigh – for moral support.

“We were outside on the deck… we’d grilled out… and the horses in the barn started getting restless. So Rob…” her face turned down as she said his name and he could see she was truly saddened by his loss. Dean removed his hand from her thigh and waited patiently for the rest of her story. In the long pause that followed, the brother-in-law began to speak, “Rob went to check the animals. He was gone like, maybe five minutes? He was walking back towards us when he started to run. He was yelling too – but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.”

“He ran to us,” said the widow, entering the conversation again, “he was screaming as he ran and then I saw the horse chasing after him. The horse was black. The rider was wearing black. No head…” she trailed off.

“Bastard threw a pumpkin at him – knocked him to the ground,” the brother in law chimed in, “He got up and tried to run but he only got a few steps. It sliced his head off with a sword. Smooth as they do in the movies. Never seen anything like it.”

“I heard it,” said the widow, “over everything else I heard his head hit the ground. I’ll never forget how that sounded for as long as I live.”

Dean nodded solemnly, “What happened then?”

“The horse reared up and the rider looked at us…”

Dean was about to ask the obvious – how can a headless rider look at you?

“I know… how can he look at us with no head, right…” said the brother, seeming to read Deans mind, “… but dammit he looked. I felt it in my bones. Then he rode away. Couldn’t see very well in the dark but he looked to be headed across the gully to Novak's place.”

When Dean found Sam again he was nodding along with Detective Camp as another officer gave report. Dean listened intently until the man was finished and then the brothers headed back to the Impala. As they climbed in the car they discussed what they'd learned. Dean suggested they drop in on Darin’s girlfriend Suzi. They’d not gone to see her yesterday, thinking there was no case. But now, he knew they had to follow up on all possible leads. They found Suzi at the high school, which had been much bigger and more modern than they’d expected.  The principle made a brief call to the police department and was immediately told to cooperate with the FBI agents.

Without further delay the boys found themselves in an empty office sitting across the table from a waif of a girl named Suzi.

“Short for Suzanne?” Dean prompted.

“Suzette. Suzette Parker.”

“Your boyfriend was Darin Hansen?”

“Yes.” She looked a little uncomfortable.

“Did you notice anything strange about his behavior in the days leading up to his death?”

“No.”

Seeing that they were going to have to pull teeth to get any information from this tight lipped girl, Dean jumped in hard, “Do you believe that his death was an accident?”

“I’d like to.” She said quietly. Dean immediately felt guilty, but didn't miss a beat.

“Do you know anyone who would’ve wanted to harm Darin?”

“That’s a loaded question around here,” she said shakily.

“Break it down for me,” said Dean, keeping his eyes trained on her.

“There’s a handful of guys. Scott and Dave and Ted and their friends… they gave Darin a pretty hard time. Not that they’d try to kill him; it’s just that, well, you asked.”

Dean nodded. Her haunting eyes never wavered as they looked out at him from beneath black blunt cut bangs.

“Do they bother you too? These guys?” prodded Dean – although it had nothing what-so-ever to do with the case.

“Not since Darin. They used to dish it out to most of us. You know, band and choir, theater dept. But it’s been pretty quiet since Darin.”

“Hope it stays quiet for you,” interjected Sam softly with a reassuring nod.

 

 

 

“High schools such a bitch!” cursed Sam as they slid into the Impala afterwards.

“I don’t miss it,” agreed Dean as he adjusted the radio and rolled his window down, “Lunch?”

“Sure.”

They motored back down the block and wound up having lunch at the same diner they’d eaten in yesterday. The horseman. It seemed to be right in the center of town. The food was good and as they ate they discussed the case. They tossed around ideas for possible supernatural elements but the horseman didn’t seem to easily fit the criteria for anything they'd seen before. Casually flipping through their father’s journal as they finished the last of their meal Dean said, “What’s weird is that there’s nothing connecting our vics.”

“That’s what’s weird to you?” laughed Sam, “There’s a headless horseman insignia on the police cruisers.”

“And the ambulance,” added Dean with a smirk, “Hell it was even patched on their uniforms.”

“Well, Rosenwinkle was in AA. Maybe we should check and see if Darin was a drinker. That might be the connection.”

Dean nodded along, wondering what else could connect the older man and the young boy. “Where we headed after this?”

“I think we should check out that neighboring property – the one that backs up to the Rosenwinkle farm. The witnesses say the horseman crossed onto that land. I already checked. It's an orchard... lots of land.”

 

 

 

The orchard wasn’t hard to find. Old Sleepy Hollow Road forked off from Bedford Road shortly before the turn off for Rosenwinkle Farms. They followed the narrow blacktop for about a quarter mile before seeing the sign on their right that proclaimed the place to be 'Sleepy Hollow Orchard'. Entering the property they followed a picturesque lane as it wove through the trees towards a cluster of bright red barns with white trim. There were so many trees that the yellowing leaves drifted to the ground around them like snowfall.  Dean parked among a sea of minivans and four door sedans. He couldn’t help inhaling a deep breath of the cool autumn air. The sun was warm on their shoulders and the laughter of children drifted on the breeze.

Looking around, Dean could see rows and rows of apple trees stretching out before them. Across the busy yard the largest barn was standing with its doors open. Inside Dean could see workers moving around huge crates of apples. Closer to them was a small barn that had been converted into a little shop. There were wooden picnic tables scattered around outside with red checked table cloths on them. Couples and families were relaxing with lemonade and iced tea. Plates laden with slices of pie and various pastries were being held down as people ate – fearful the breeze would flutter them away.

There were kids everywhere. Some were carrying little buckets of apples while others labored to carry a pumpkin that was too heavy. Others ran about or lingered on the laps or shoulders of their parents. It looked like something out of a magazine. Dean watched his brother smile at everyone as they made their way to the door of the barn-turned-shop. The moment they stepped inside the scent of apples, cinnamon and nutmeg enveloped them. There were candles burning everywhere – in lanterns and in jars. There were aisles of country knick-knacks, cook books and various sundry items. Dean’s fingers traced over jars of apple butter, pumkin pie filling and even honey. All were labeled with the “Sleepy Hollow” Logo.

Sam started moving toward the wall of the store where the cash register was located and Dean followed. As they approached, Deans mouth watered. There was a huge glass display case full of every baked apple notion that one could imagine: apple pie, pumpkin bars, tarts, strudel, crumb cake… it went on and on. He forced his eyes up from heaven-under-glass and watched Sam ask for the owner. He saw the woman behind the counter lean over towards a window. “He’s right there,” she said – pointing outside, “up in that tree.” They nodded thanks to her and stepped outside, following her direction around the corner.

Perched against the tree was a tall ladder and as their eyes traveled up it, they found the owner. His face was away from them, intent on his work. He was further obscured from them by the large bag that was suspended across his shoulder. They watched him for a moment, picking apples and dropping them into the bag which looked quite heavy. Dean’s eyes wandered over the only thing he could see clearly. A very nice looking ass. The jeans fit perfectly and had just the right amount of wear. Suddenly, Dean became aware of Sam staring at him. He looked at his brother – “what?”

“Oh nothing, just wanted to ASS you a few questions,” laughed Sam.

“What?” Dean asked again, certain that he was being mocked.

“You think I didn’t see you check out that man’s ass?” sassed Sam.

Before Dean could even respond, Sam was yelling up into the tree, “Excuse me? Excuse me!”

The man turned to look down at them and Dean was stunned by how young he was. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected an old codger… but a young man with a fine ass? Definitely unexpected. The brothers waited as the man climbed down the ladder and settled his sack of apples on the ground. He tossed one to each of them and said, “How can I help you, gentlemen?”

“Agents Bloom and Braunstein” said Dean confidently as he and Sam showed their badges, “You’re the owner?”

“Cas Novak,” he said warmly extending a hand to each of them in turn, “What does the FBI need from me?”

“Just a few moments of your time,” said Sam, “We’re investigating in the area and had a few questions for you.”

“Alright,” said Cas, leaning back on the tree and sliding his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans.

“Where were you last night between 10pm and 2am?”

“I was here,” said Cas – gesturing behind himself with his chin, “my house is just over that rise. The last of customers are usually gone shortly after dark. The last of the workers usually leave by 9pm. Last night I believe I was in bed by 11.”

“Do you live alone, Mr. Novak?” asked Sam.

“Yes.”

“No one else resides on this property?”

“No.”

“Do you have any livestock?”

“No.”

“Did you see or hear anything strange last night?”

“No.”

“You’re property boarders the Rosenwinkle farm, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“What separates your properties? Is there a fence?”

“There is an incomplete fence line around the property. So, in some places there is fence but in other places there is not.”

“Do you have any access to the Pocantico River on your property?”

“No.”

“How many acres do you have here?”

“57”

“Is all of it comprised of orchard, or do you have some woodland areas too?”

“There are approximately 13 acres of wooded land that are not in use.”

Dean was looking around as Sam pumped Novak with questions. The sun was still shining, bringing warmth to an otherwise cool day. The atmosphere was very relaxed and happy here, kids playing and adults milling about with their baskets of fruit and purchases from the shop. Cars came and went down the lane. Dean found himself smiling as he bit into the apple he’d been given. Sam gave him a look when he slurped and wiped sweet apple juice from his chin.

Glancing at Cas, he noticed the man steeling glances at him as he ate his apple. He caught a look of amusement a few times too – just a hint of smile ghosting at the corner of the man’s mouth – gone before it could be appreciated. He wondered if it was directed at him, or at Sam’s relentless questions.

The strangest thing about Cas was how comfortable he was. The man had an easy way, comfortable with both himself and his environment… he didn’t even seem fazed that the FBI was poking around his orchard. Dean didn’t realize he’d been staring until Sam jerked him from his revelry with an unexpected question…

“Can we get a tour?”

“Absolutely,” said Cas, stuffing his gloves in his back pocket and walking across the small yard to the front door of the gift shop. As they trailed behind him, Dean looked at Sam and with a mouthful of fruit and said, “A tour? What the hell?”

“We can’t leave, you haven’t _seen enough_ yet,” he ribbed. Clearly, having caught Dean’s roving eye, Sam was going to make his brother suffer.

Not one to make it too easy, he mustered up the most indifference he could, “It’s a fucking orchard. The trees look the same no matter where we’re standing.”

He knew his brother was seeing right through him, but thankfully Sam let it go. The teasing smile left his face as he refocused on the work at hand and said, “I do think we should see where the properties come together… see if there’s any evidence of a rider coming through.”

“The cops are doing that.”

“Dean, this is practically Mayberry. I wouldn’t be surprised if Barney Fife walked up and started interviewing witnesses.”

Dean didn’t respond. They were only a few steps behind Cas and he didn’t want the congenial man to overhear their insults. He picked up his pace and followed the orchard owner through the door of the small barn-turned-shop. Again he was engulfed in heavenly scents as they stepped inside. Cas simply reached behind the counter, giving a smile to his clerk as he took keys from behind the register and then pivoted to face them again. Dean smiled before he could help himself.

“Right this way gentlemen,” he said as he moved past the Winchester brothers. Turning, they followed him back out the door and Dean tossed his apple core in the trash as he passed it. The three crossed the yard amidst the other guests and headed towards another building. It was more of a machine shed than a barn, but it was painted to match all the others. Dean watched Cas’ broad shoulders and strong back as he pushed open the giant door, which slid on rollers to reveal a line of different styles of trucks and tractors. There were several empty spaces which, Dean assumed, meant that the tractors normally stored in those spaces were currently in use.

They followed the owner into the dimly lit space. It was cooler inside and smelled of damp earth and musty wood. They shadowed behind as the man passed several models of farm tractors and wagons to arrive at a very old pick up. As they converged on it, Dean could see that it was meticulously maintained. He liked it immediately. You could tell from twenty paces… this vehicle was loved. Just like his baby was loved.

“I’m afraid one of you will have to sit in the back,” said Cas, not looking at them, “But I assure you the walk would take longer than you gentlemen care to spend here.”

Dean didn’t even have a chance to think before Sammy shot past him and said, “I’ll take the back.”

Sam was capitalizing on Dean’s moment of indiscretion earlier. He’d seen Dean check out the man’s ass and he was trying to push them together.  He gritted his teeth in frustration as he slid into the front seat next to Cas. The space was small. Even with just the two of them, it was cramped. Dean was pressed up against the man from shoulder to knee.

Cas cranked the engine and it sounded perfect, very different from the pickup trucks driven now. It sputtered to life and caught – then as it idled it made a noise similar to the sound a bicycle makes if you put cards in the spokes… a rhythmic click, putter and purr… it brought a smile to Dean’s lips. He grinned at Cas, unable to contain his joy at the sound. Cas grinned back at him. It was an incredible thing to see this man smile. It lit up his entire face. His eyes were bright and clear and his tanned skin crinkled at the corners of his eyes. His wide smile was infectious too – and Dean felt his chest constrict a little as their eyes locked. It took him a moment to form a coherent sentence.

“What year is this?”

“Agent Bloom, this is a 1932 Ford Model B.”

“It’s incredible,” said Dean, letting out a low whistle as Cas put it in gear and eased them out of the shed and onto the hard packed earth.

“You work on this yourself?”

“Yes, I do. It’s surprisingly simple compared to modern vehicles and I’ve found that I have a knack for it. Especially the body work. When we bought this place, my ex thought this was just scrap metal. But look at my baby now!” proclaimed Cas as he ran his hand lovingly along the dash.

Dean found he was still smiling. He loved that Cas loved this truck. His window was already down and the breeze was calming as they puttered along. The ride got bumpier as they left the well driven grounds and headed down between two rows of apple trees. They weren’t moving especially fast but Cas would slow to a crawl whenever there were people nearby. Dean glanced behind him and saw Sam sitting in the small truck bed behind them, waiving at kids as they passed them like a goof.

“Did you grow up here?” Dean asked him, genuinely wanting to know.

“Nope. Grew up in Chicago actually. Met my ex there. We came through here one day while vacationing in New York and fell in love with the place. We initially planned to gut that big barn and create a little hotel out of it, but as you probably noticed, that’s where the fruit is packed and the canning is done. It’s a far cry from what we’d planned on when we moved here.”

Dean nodded, not wanting to interrupt as he continued, “I like it better this way, I guess. There’s not much to be done in the off-season. It gives me time to write.”

“And work on cars.”

“Yes, agent, and work on cars,” Cas gave him another smile and Dean had to work hard to not notice how their thighs were pressed together. As they slowed down, Dean returned his attention forward. They were coming to the end of the rows of trees and a weathered fence line was approaching. Cas easily guided the pickup to the right and began following alongside the fence. Dean was thinking how easy Cas made the driving look – he knew this truck had no power steering and it was likely not easy to maneuver. The driver had settled one arm on his open window and had the other draped over the wheel. Dean turned to look out his window and watch the rows of trees fly by.

“What’s in those wooden crate things?” he asked as they passed by several small wooden structures.

“Bees.”

“Bees?”

“Yes, I raise my own. It’s better for the fruit production and I can harvest my own honey. It’s for sale in the store.”

“You’re a jack of all trades,” quipped Dean.

“And a master of none,” laughed Cas in response.

“Are you a good writer?”

“Nope. But I write anyway.”

“Awesome. What kind of stuff do you write?” asked Dean, returning his gaze to the trees and bees moving slowly past his window.

“Mysteries mostly. And erotic fiction.”

Dean’s head snapped back to Cas… the man had his full attention…

“I’m just kidding,” he laughed, “Mysteries. I write mysteries.”

Dean was laughing too as Cas pulled the vehicle to a stop.

“Here we are agents,” announced Cas as he cut off the engine and climbed out of the truck. Dean missed his presence instantly. His thigh and shoulder were cold. He hadn’t realized just how warm and fuzzy he’d been feeling until he was alone in the cab. He let himself out and stepped into tall green grass. They were far from the shop, the barns, and the activity. Here, it was quiet. The breeze had picked up a little outside the protection of the trees and the sun was sinking low, taking the warmth with it.

“This is the border between my property and Rosenwinkle Farms,” said Cas, “those are their cows.”

Dean followed the man’s pointing finger to the animals in a small valley grazing a few hundred yards away. Dean’s eyes roved the pasture and then the buildings in the distance. He recognized the shape of the house and barn even from a distance. He’d been there just a short while ago – looking at a decapitated corpse.

“Do you know about the murder?” Dean asked him point blank.

“Yes. I heard this morning. I didn’t know them. As you can see,” said Cas gesturing at the field, “the term ‘neighbors’ is used loosely to describe us.”

Dean nodded and then asked, “What keeps the cows in. I don’t see a fence.”

“Look closely,” said Cas sliding up next to him pointing at the other side of the gully that separated the properties. “It’s just a wire… see it… right there?”

“Yeah,” said Dean when his eyes found it in the waning light, “that little wire keeps a bunch of big-ass cows in?”

“It’s electric.”

“Oh.”

“What’s it do to a horse and rider?”

“If they don’t know it’s there? And they run into it?” said Cas incredulously, “I’m sure it would bring them down. Would probably bring a huge section of the fence down too.”

Just then, Sam walked up behind them. Dean had almost forgotten he was here.

“Cas, does that stream cut through your land?” Sam asked him, eyeing the little creek that cut through the grassy pasture.

“Yes.”

“Does it have a muddy bottom, or rocky?”

“Mostly mud.”

“How deep is it?”

“Not very. There’s only two places on my property where it’s deep enough to swim.”

“You ever get anyone riding through your property on horseback?”

“Not that I’ve noticed,” said Cas as he began to move back towards the truck.

Dean followed. This time, he didn’t think anything of it when he climbed in the front and let Sam hop up in the back. They stopped a few more times at various points around the property, Cas showing them things that he thought were interesting. A den of foxes. A run of deer trails. A few rows of fledgling trees that were some new variety of apple tree that they’d planted last year. The pumpkin patch – full of children and the maze made of hay bales that had been constructed for the kids. Too soon, they were back where they’d started.

Dusk had fully descended and in the twilight, lights twinkled in the trees near the buildings. Closer inspection found canning jars hung from the trees with candles in them. Jack-o-lanterns were lit along the path and the magic of Halloween was in the air. They passed the shop and continued over a small rise. As they crested the small hill and looked down the other side, Dean saw what could only be Cas’ house. It was more like a cabin than a house. Quaint and charming. Inviting. Every bit as inviting as the man himself. They came to a stop near the front door and climbed out of the old truck.

With the engine silenced, the peace of the place was obvious. They weren’t far from the bustle of tourists shopping. But yet, they couldn’t see it or hear it. As they stepped through the door, Dean could smell the fireplace. Not a gas one that lights with the push of a button, but a real one. The smell of real fire – camp fire - lingered in this living room. There was a huge bowl of perfect apples on the table and comfortable furniture surrounding the fireplace.

“Agents, have a seat if you’d like, I have something you might want to see.”

Dean nodded and looked to Sam. His brother had a wicked smirk on his face. Dean suddenly wondered how obvious he’d been. He’d been careful all his life to not let Sammy see him ogling anything but chicks. Now, Sam had seen Dean check out an ass. But what else? Dean had been so interested in Cas – that hadn’t bothered to be careful about schooling his emotions or hiding what he was thinking. Had Sam seen anything he needed to be worried about?

To keep from having to look at his brother, Dean made his way around the room pretending to look at the various books and framed pictures. He was perusing the photos on the mantle when Cas came back in the room. The man immediately noticed what Dean was looking at and zeroed in on it. For a moment, Dean felt like he’d over stepped his bounds, worn out his welcome. But then Cas smiled and stepped closer.

“I would have gotten rid of that,” he said blushing, “but it’s the only decent photo I have of what this place looked like when we bought it. The truck’s in the background… see?” he said pointing, “It’s next to the big barn. Nothing was fixed up or painted yet… this is my ‘before’ picture.”

“Why would you get rid of it then?” asked Dean without thinking.

“My ex. Who keeps a picture of their ex on the mantle?” Cas was trying to laugh it off, but his blush was furious. And endearing. Dean stepped forward and looked at the picture in question. He was stunned…

“That’s your ex?” asked Dean, disbelieving. The picture was primarily of the grouping of barns. It had been taken from a low lying area – perhaps near the tree line. In the foreground were two men. That’s right. Two men. They were both wearing huge smiles and one had his arm wound tightly around the other – Cas was beaming in the picture.

 _Holy shit_ – thought Dean _– he’s gay. He doesn’t look gay. But he’s gay. Holy shit._

Dean hadn’t even noticed that Cas had walked away. He was that _lost_ in his thoughts. He’d been in a trance since he’d met the man, thinking of how attractive he was and how it made Dean feel to be near him. It had never even crossed his mind that Cas might be amenable. His mind swooped in with the memory of Cas joking that he writes erotic fiction. Cas had been flirting and Dean hadn’t even noticed. Now he wasn’t sure what to do. Uncertain, he looked at Sam.

Sam was leaning over the table where Cas had laid something out. They were both looking at it and talking about it. Dean needed to snap out of it. His mind was like a record player, skipping. Repeating. Dude is gay. Dude is gay. Dude is gay. Dean needed to bump the needle.

He forced himself to clear his mind and move to the table so he could re-insert himself into the conversation. As he stepped up, he realized they were looking at a plat map.

“Here to here,” Cas was saying, “is where my property borders his.”

“Thank you Cas,” said Sam as he stood back up straight. He towered over Cas. Everyone looked small next to Sam.

A bit unnerved, Dean defaulted to the false persona of an agent, “Yes, thank you, Mr. Novak,” he added formally as he stepped toward the door, “We certainly appreciate all of your time.”

Cas followed Dean to the door and Sam followed Cas. They all stepped outside. The last of the light had slipped away and the insects were loud as they walked to the truck in the dark. Dean climbed in next to Cas one last time and listened as he cranked up the engine. The sound of it matched the pitter-pat of Dean’s heart as he felt Cas’ body strong and lean beside him again. Warm. Inviting.

They parked at the shop and Dean followed Cas into the store – not even waiting for Sam. There were still a few shoppers mulling about and Cas greeted them all warmly as he passed between them. Dean watched him pick up a jar from a display and hand it to him.

“What’s this?” asked Dean as he looked down at it.

“My honey,” said Cas with a tentative smile, “I hope you like it. The website and the… my… uh… phone number… is on the back. In case you get a craving.”

Dean’s eyes snapped up from the label to meet Cas’. The words had been a blatant flirtation. And, again, Dean found himself smiling before he could help himself.

 

~


	2. Fear the Headless Horseman

 

The moment Sam’s ass hit the seat of the Impala he was in stitches. Dean slammed the honey jar into the glove box and started the car. He navigated back towards the entrance, looking straight ahead, not willing to give his brother the satisfaction of knowing how completely rattled he was.

Sam was quiet – perhaps even a bit smug as he finally bit into his apple. “I fuckin know you want him Dean… you just ate fresh fruit. Voluntarily.”

“The fuck, Sam?”

Sam’s tone grew more quiet and firm. He looked out at the highway instead of at his brother as he said, “Dean… do you honestly think I’ve never noticed that you look sometimes? You think I even care?”

“Maybe I’ve just had so many chicks that I get bored sometimes, ever think of that Sammy? Of course not… you’d have to get a lot more ass to start thinkin like that.”

Sam rolled his eyes at the deflection, “C’mon Dean. You’re my big brother. I’ve looked up to you my entire life. I’ve watched you like a hawk since I could walk. I know you.”

Dean kept his face forward, watching the mist swirl in his headlights and trying not to give away the fact that a hard knot had settled into his throat and wouldn’t go down no matter how many times he swallowed.

“Dad’s gone now, Dean. There’s no one barking at you and second guessing all your choices now… you can just live your life the way you want to.”

“How do you think I wanna live it Sam?”

“I think you want things. Lots of things. And you’ve never let yourself have a single one of them. I think every waitress and bartender you’ve ever banged has been your way of trying to please yourself the best you can. But it’s never enough is it Dean? Cause it’s not really what you want at all.”

“Dammit Sammy, l got it okay? I’m free to be what I wanna be. Can we drop it now?”

Sam smirked and nodded, turning his head to look out his window, remembering an old army slogan from when they were kids, “Be all that you can be Dean.”

The brothers huffed a laugh, relaxing their shoulders as the tense conversation came to end. The attention turned to their case. They discussed the few things they’d learned at the orchard and from Suzi.  Before long, they were rumbling into the hotel parking lot. Dean paused briefly, glancing at the glove box, but he walked into the hotel room without admitting to himself or to Sam how much he wanted to bring that jar of honey inside with him.

It was early, but rather than head out to a bar, Dean pulled a deck of cards out and challenged his brother. They played sloppy poker, tossed back too much whiskey as they both pretended they didn’t have someone else on their mind.

When his head hit the pillow that night, Dean’s thoughts still hovered around Cas. There was definitely a pull there… and it went far beyond the desire to take a quick roll-in-the-hay with a hot body. The desire to be closer to Cas was lingering. And strong.

 He had loved the way the man’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. And that blush! When Cas had fumbled, talking about his ex, it had been unbearably sweet. The man was obviously older than Dean – by a few years at least – so how could he be so adorable? But somehow he was. Dean’s heart grew warm just from thinking of him. His sleep was fitful, plagued with echoes of Cas’ laughter and images of sapphire blue eyes that flashed bright behind his eyelids.

Sam’s phone startled them awake around 1:00 am. There was another body.

They threw on crumpled suits and headed back into town. The crime scene was on the northern bank of the Pontantico River. They spotted Detective Camp and crossed the hard ground over dead grass littered with trash and cigarette butts.

Local law enforcement was swarming. In the dark, the flash bulbs of the crime scene photographer were piercing. Unlike the decapitation at Rosenwinkle farms, this one didn’t happen over packed dirt. It happened on matted dry grass. And the result was macabre. There was visible blood splattered everywhere and it was still wet. This had just happened.

“What’ve we got? Asked Sam as they stepped up to Detective Camp.

“Well, no witness this time, but my money’s on the horseman again.”

“Who called it in?”

“Four different calls, all reported screaming on this block.”

Dean looked around. They were on the north bank of the river. Behind them, less than fifty yards away, was a line of middle class homes. Most of them were colonials and almost every single one had their front porch lights on. There were a few clusters of middle aged folks standing on their lawns in bathrobes, talking and watching the police work.

Blue strobes cut through the dark and behind the brothers, uniformed officers were stretching out yellow police tape. The first news van was pulling up.

“Positive ID?” asked Dean.

“Unconfirmed, agent. One of my guys says he knows the kid. Thinks his name is Ted Morgan. Says he lives right over there.”

The brothers followed the detectives gaze across the road to the line of houses and the people milling out front. It was very possible that the boy’s parents were over there right now – wondering what the crime was – blissfully unaware that their baby boy was now in two pieces on the cold ground. The scene was macabre, worthy of any horror movie.

Dean walked over to the body and knelt down – looking for any evidence of supernatural involvement. As with the last body, the spinal cord was a protruding stump surrounded by retracting severed muscle fibers and flayed skin.

Much like Rosenwinkle, this victim had clearly taken a few steps without his head before crumbling to the ground in an unnatural body position. Dean could tell by the blood trail that led up to this body and pattern of the blood on his clothes. This boy's arm had snapped backwards as he’d gone down. And his face bore make up. Halloween make up.

“Autopsy back on Rosenwinkle yet?” Dean asked the detective.

“Nothing that we can use to narrow down the weapon. I’ve had officers casing local stores to see what may have been bought locally – but that was based on eye witness accounts of a sword. We know the blade width and some other boring stuff from the autopsy but nothing that jumps out at me that’s helpful. Full report’s on my desk if you boys wanna swing by and grab it,” he said stepping around them and moving towards his cruiser. “I’m headed home after I talk to the parents. Just waiting on the confirmation.”

The boys stayed a while longer, checking both the body and head and following the hoof prints. They were light since the ground was so hard, but they weren’t too hard to follow. They came from the river and followed its bank for about 50 yards and then returned to the river.

The boys were scratching heads. They did stop by the police station to pick up the autopsy and then stopped at the gas station on the corner. It was nearly 5:00 am and Dean was certain there would be fresh doughnuts.

When they walked in, the bright white lights burned Dean’s eyes and the brothers nodded to each other as they separated. Dean headed for doughnuts and Sam headed for coffee. As he stepped around the case, Dean came face to face with a blood spattered headless horseman. His hand paused halfway to his gun, brain already willing his pounding heart back in his ribcage. It was a costume. The horseman had a box of doughnuts and a carton of OJ under his arm.

Dean grinned at the lunacy of it and then began filling a box with pastries. His mind flitted to the selection of high end apple pastries that had been available at Cas’ orchard and suddenly his box of sugar and frosting coated doughnuts was less appetizing.

As they stood in line to check out, Dean noticed what Sam was carrying in his other hand. “Dude, what is that?”

“Smoothie.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “You’re not even gonna have one of these are you?”

“Dude, those don’t even look good.”

Sadly, Dean had to agree. But he carried them back to the hotel room and soaked them in coffee. Low on sleep they waited for the caffeine buzz to kick in as they poured over the autopsy report and lore surrounding the horseman. By 9:00 am – they had to admit they were stumped.

The two younger victims were loosely connected by geography – but that was the only connection. One had died of a broken neck and the other had died of decapitation. The older victim, Rob Rosenwinkle, was decapitated so he had something in common with one other victim. But there just wasn’t much connecting these three – aside from the legend of the horseman.

When Bobby called to check in, they had to admit they’d been unable to pick up any momentum on the investigation. He told them he’d look into the lore at his place and see if any of his books made any reference to the horseman. Once they’d hung up, they headed out to speak with the victim’s families. They stopped by the station to drop off the autopsy and see if the name of the third victim had been confirmed yet.

 

 

 

“Mrs. Morgan?”

“Yes.”

“Agents Bloom and Braunstein,” said Sam. They showed their badges and were invited in. She gestured for them to have a seat and then joined her husband on the couch. The place seemed pretty normal as they began asking their questions.

They already knew the victim was their son, Ted Morgan. They knew he’d worked across the river at the Horseman’s Hollow. The Horseman’s Hollow was the period themed haunted village that the city sponsored at Phillipsburg Manor; Detective Camp had told them about it when they’d first met him. The first victim, Darin Hansen, had also worked at Horseman’s Hollow and had met his demise right across the road at the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery where he was also employed.

Dean watched as Sam tactfully expressed his condolences to the couple and began questioning them. They hadn’t noticed anything strange about their son’s behavior in the days leading up to his death. Yes, he’d been a bit quiet since Darin had died, but that had seemed quite normal for the situation. Sam asked if the boys had been friends. Mrs. Morgan had replied no, the boys hadn’t really “run in the same circles” but they had worked together at Haunted Hollow for several years.

Dean leaned forward and asked if Ted had been working the night he was killed. Yes, Mr. Morgan told them, he’d always walked home after work. The Phillipsburg Manor grounds were in walking distance so it hadn’t made sense to worry about driving the boy. He had always walked to and from work and they’d never considered it to be unsafe. The boy would walk along the south bank of the river to Broadway and cross the bridge there before turning back to walk along the north bank of the river to his house, crossing the street when he reached their property.

“In fact,” added Mrs. Morgan, “we were outside wondering what was going on when the police roped off the area last night. It never even occurred to us that it might be….” Her voice broke then and she didn’t finish her sentence.

They only had a few more minutes before she began to lose her composure and her husband started giving them the look. They wrapped it up quickly after that, asking the Morgans if they could think of anyone who had reason to harm their son. They shook their heads morosely. Dean asked them for the names of Teddy’s friends and proceeded to make a list as they rattled off names.

Neither mentioned the Sleepy Hollow Legend or the rumors that a specter of a supernatural nature seemed to be taking lives in their quaint little town. It was obvious by the way the carried themselves and the furnishings in their home that these were very sensible, rational people. Likely they knew that if they just waited patiently – answers would come. For now, they seemed to be working on just coping with their loss. Sam left them a card and asked the couple to call them regarding anything unusual.

Now that they’d interviewed the parents, they knew with certainty that the victims had known each other through school and through their part time jobs. Dean’s memory clicked back to the conversation they’d had with Suzi, Darin’s girlfriend. She’d told the ‘agents’ that Scott, Dave and Ted had lead the group that often bullied and harassed Darin.

Sam mentioned, as they slid back into the car, that they were only a few streets over from Nicki’s house.

“It’s a small town Sam.”

“It’s not that small Dean.”

“You want to check on her.” It wasn’t a question.

Dean felt bad. Both he and his brother had been attracted to someone here in Sleepy Hollow. Sensing Sam’s interest in Nicki… Dean’s reaction had been to squash it. Sam’s reaction when Dean had noticed Cas? Encourage him. Tell him to be happy.

It was for his brothers own good that he acted this way – but that didn’t make him feel like any less of a douche. It was late morning now and they’d driven the few blocks over from the crime scene to the high school. As he pulled into the parking lot Dean racked his brain for some way to give Sam an olive branch.

“She works at the bar uptown,” he finally said, trying to make an effort for Sam’s sake, “You know I wouldn’t mind some beers and pool tonight…”

Sam nodded stiffly and then opened his door to get out. They headed into the school side by side for the second time. This time they encountered no resistance at the office and the principle allowed them to call students out of class one at a time for questions.

They spoke first with Scott and then Dave. These were the two they were most interested in since they’d been mentioned by name, by both Suzi and the Morgans. Both conversations were fruitless. Neither boy revealed any new information. Both seemed genuinely surprised at the notion of Darin's death being anything but an accident. Both were detestable… clearly the types to enjoy having a power position over the students that they considered to be ‘lesser’ and both were smug and condescending during questioning. Dean was suspicious of them, of course, but he had nothing solid to back up his suspicions. So, after a few more interviews, they left the school to grab some lunch.

They discussed their paltry leads as they ate. “You know,” said Dean with a mouthful of fries, “We should go have a look around the ‘Horseman's Hollow’ tonight.”

Sam squirmed a little in his chair and nodded.

“Aw relax Sammy… it’s not like there’s gonna be clowns… it’s all period stuff… bunch of pilgrims with axes.”

Sam nodded again and suggested they head back to the hotel and get some sleep. Dean was in agreement. They’d been shortchanged on sleep since before they even got to this town and in the absence of a smoking lead to investigate – a few hours of head-on-pillow was too tempting.

 

 

 

Settling in to sleep was easy, and when Dean woke he felt refreshed. But he lingered in the bed for a few minutes with his eyes closed and just let his mind wander. He thought over the case and the people and the town. He could see why the locals loved it. The legend is fun and the reminders of the story are everywhere. During the day it’s beautiful. Lots of trees and sunshine, creeks and ponds, hills and valleys. Then, as darkness descends, the spookiness sets in. Mist cloaks the low lying areas and fog lingers in the air. It’s easy to see why this area inspired such a chilling story.

Dean tried to re-focus his thoughts on the case; search for anything that linked the deaths. But he simply couldn’t draw a single thread between the three. They all shared some combination of similarities – but the single connection that would mean the most? It alluded him. He opened his eyes and looked over at the other bed. Sam was awake and looking at something on his laptop.

“Find anything?”

“Nope. But I’ve been thinking about the river. I think we should go back to each crime scene and back to the orchard. We’re missing something… and I feel like it has to do with the river. There’s a connection there and I can’t put my finger on it.”

“You wanna do that during the day or at night?”

“We’ve never had very good light… lets just go now… before the sun sets.”

Dean nodded and kicked off his covers. He scratched and yawned and headed to the bathroom for a shower. When he’d finished washing his hair with the cheap hotel shampoo he poured the rest in his palm and ran it along his chubby cock. It grew in his hand as he leaned back against the cool tiles and closed his eyes. Unsolicited, thoughts of Cas came swirling in... the crinkly-eyed smile when he’d started up his old truck, the stolen glances as Dean had eaten his apple, the impish little grin the man had worn as he’d joked about writing erotic fiction. A sigh escaped as he tightened his grip and began to stroke himself harder and faster. He thought of what it would feel like to do this with a man. To stand in a shower together and jerk each other off. For it to be Cas, wide smile and stormy blue eyes, the firm calloused grip of someone who works on cars and chops wood for his fireplace.

Dean’s heart was hammering now, his body tensing as he felt his climax approaching. Behind his eyelids he saw another man’s hands on his swollen cock and he came. He took a minute to relax with the feeling before he stepped back into the spray and cleaned himself up.

When he came out, Sam went in and Dean proceeded to get dressed. His mind wandered to the jar of honey in the glove box. He wondered what he’d do with it. It’s not like he had a kitchen and could simply put it in the door of the fridge with his other condiments to use at his discretion. He’d have to carry that jar into a restaurant or hotel room to use it. Once it was opened – then what would he do with it?

On some level Dean was aware that Cas had only given him the honey as a clever way getting his phone number into Deans hands. But for some reason, he wanted to keep it. Use it. Taste it.

The entire thing was like a metaphor and the honey was Cas. He wanted Cas. But he couldn’t have him or keep him. If he tasted… it would just be once and the rest would be ruined. Abandoned. It sickened him.

Just when his mood began to grow sour from his musings, Sam emerged from the bathroom and they were getting ready to leave. They went to the orchard first, since it was the closest to their hotel. Driving onto the property, Dean felt very conflicted. He wanted to see Cas again – there was no denying it. But he also had a sense of wrongness. He knew he shouldn’t want this, because no good could come from it. Inside his head he gave himself the same speech he’d given his brother…

So you’re gonna spend a few days together? Let him get used to you and then leave town for the next hunt? Leave him behind? Just like his ex did? Who does that benefit? Not you and not him. If you need to get your rocks off – grab the nearest easy lay and then get on the road. Do NOT. Do NOT climb in bed with Cas and then fuck him over.

Dean got out of the car resolved to do what was best for all of them. Him, Sammy and Cas. He would do nothing. Any thoughts of getting closer to Cas would live in his spank bank only.

Dean flipped up the collar of his jacket and strode towards the shop. Sam was right behind him. The magic feel of the place still lingered. Children and adults alike were lost in it. To the right was the pumpkin patch and hay bale maze – swarming with squealing children and adults taking pictures. Little red wagons moved about as customers filled them with pumpkins and wheeled them up to the shop for purchase.

Beyond the pumkins lay the big red barn, huge door still gaping open and the workers inside moving quickly as they sorted fruit, ran processing equipment, and loaded trucks. Beyond the barn were endless apple trees, heavy branches swaying in the soft breeze while the late afternoon sun drenched everything in warmth.

Dean didn’t look to the left… to the rise of ground that concealed Cas’ cabin less than a hundred yards away. He kept his eyes forward as they moved to the door of the shop and stepped in. He hung back, allowing Sam to take the lead.

Sam asked for the owner and Dean followed along as Sam explained to Cas that they’d like to have a look at the location where the creek enters his property and where it leaves his property. They’d also like another look at his map, if he doesn’t mind. Dean watched Cas glance at him a few times… probably wondering where Deans easy smile had gone. But he didn’t mention it and he didn’t attempt to talk to Dean as they walked to the building that housed his old truck.

Dean nodded to Sam as he climbed into the bed and Sam looked a little puzzled as he walked past and got into the cab with Cas. Despite his own resolve, Dean’s chest roared with a fire of jealousy as he watched his brother and Cas through the small pane of glass that separated them.

They’d only driven a few yards… hadn’t even gotten to the tree line yet when the truck came to a stop. Dean looked into the cab and saw Sam on his phone and Cas watching, waiting. When Sam hung up, the truck engaged again but it didn’t move forward. It made a wide u-turn and headed to the parking area. As they puttered to a stop, Sam climbed out and came around to talk to him while Cas remained in the vehicle and let it idle.

“Just got a call from Camps. Nicki was arrested for assault.”

“What?”

“Yeah. She full on attacked Scott Collins at the gas station on Broadway. She had to be pulled off of him. They just brought her in. I’m going to go question her.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Dean firmly as he hopped down out of the truck bed, “No. Stay here and see what you can figure out about the creek and the river. See if he’ll copy his plat map for you. I’d like to keep that with us.”

“You gonna be okay with her?”

“I’m fine Dean. Thanks.”

Dean reluctantly handed his brother the keys to the Impala and walked to the cab of the truck to get in with Cas. It was gut-wrenching how much he liked sliding in next to the man. He tried not to look at him, but couldn’t hold back.

“Agent Bloom,” said Cas curtly with a nod.

“Mr. Novak,” nodded Dean, “thanks for taking me around.”

“Any excuse to get my baby out of the shed,” he said warmly as he rubbed his palm along the dash. And dammit if Dean didn’t just love it so much that this man called his truck “Baby”.

They motored off into the trees and rode in uncomfortable silence to the location. When they arrived, Cas cut the motor and got out. But as Dean moved to look closer at the creek, Cas moved away from him. In his periphery he saw that the man was going over to check on one of his bee boxes.

Dean surveyed the creek which entered Cas’ property at a wide bend. On one side of the creek was wooded land – not orchard trees but just regular forestation. On the other side of the creek was a wide swath of open grass and then the rows of orchard trees started.

Dean’s eyes followed the creek as it moved north-west along the edge of Cas’ orchard and then disappeared as it bent to the south and cut into the trees. Dean took a step back and almost collided with Cas, whom he hadn’t realized had stepped up behind him.

“You know how to sneak up on a guy, huh?” fumbled Dean.

“I guess. Or perhaps your skills are a bit rusty, agent.”

Dean worked to hold back his grin and it became an unwilling smirk. “Can we ride down there to where the creek cuts into the trees?”

Cas nodded and they walked back to the truck. The silence was more comfortable as they rode now, and it didn’t take long for Cas to venture speaking.

“What’s the connection to my creek agent?”

“We don’t know yet. Maybe there isn’t one.”

“Investigation not going well?”

“I’m really not at liberty to discuss it.”

Cas nodded and grew quiet again as they moved slowly over the uneven ground. Dean hadn’t realized he’d been staring at the man’s sharp profile until he turned suddenly to look at Dean. He felt his cheeks redden at having been caught ogling.

“Something on your mind agent?”

 _You. You’re on my mind._ “Nope. Just thinking.”

“About the case?”

“Sure.”

Cas smiled over at him and said, “It must be difficult being an investigator… how far do you travel for your cases?”

“Nationally”

“Wow, I would’ve assumed that agents reported to a field office somewhere and then were responsible for only a certain area.”

“Most, yes. But my partner and I are part of a special division.”

“Like Mulder and Scully?” asked Cas with a teasing look.

“That would explain me investigating in Sleepy Hollow wouldn’t it?” mused Dean out loud.

“Here we are agent Bloom.”

Dean got out of the truck and moved to the edge of the creek. It was wide and shallow, just as it had been since it entered the property. The bottom appeared to be mostly packed earth with a few stones in it. The water was almost clear. Dean’s eyes wandered to where it cut into the orchard, disrupting the perfect rows of trees. Dark shadows pooled at the base of the trees. It wasn’t until this moment that Dean had realized they were losing light; the sun was setting. A cool breeze blew at his back and the leaves of the trees stirred with it.

He turned back towards the truck. Cas was leaning on it, waiting patiently and behind him the forest looked dark and menacing.

“Can you give me a few minutes? I want to walk in a ways.”

“Sure,” said Cas amenably. Dean watched him turn and reach into the truck bed to grab a lantern. Setting it on the side of the truck bed, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a lighter. As Cas lit the lantern and walked towards him, Dean was broken-hearted for how incredible this man was.

“A real lantern, Cas? Not a flashlight. A lantern.” He’d meant to make a joke, but realized afterward that it had fallen flat. It had sounded condescending. Cas didn’t bristle. He simply replied kindly.

“I guess I just like older things, agent.”

Dean nodded and fell into step with him, secretly glad to have his company. They followed the creek for a ways. As they walked, Dean looked down each row of trees as they passed by it. In one section, he glimpsed a crew down the row, picking and crating apples by spotlight. Other than that, there was no one. A mist was settling over the grass as the sun went down.

They walked on in silence with a chorus of crickets droning in the background. The creek bent to the west again and seemed to get narrower. It was dark now, and difficult to see how deep the water was. Almost reading his mind Cas spoke for the first time in a long time, “This is one of the few places where it’s deep enough to swim. I come down here at night sometimes in the summer to swim. My place is right up there on the other side of that hill.”

Dean’s eyes followed the mans arm as he pointed out the direction of his cabin. In the background, there was a noise garnering his attention and he allowed himself to close his eyes and listen.

“Do you hear that?” he whispered to Cas.

“What?” Cas whispered back.

Dean paused, looking at Cas and listening. It was growing louder. A rhythmic thumping. A steady beat.

“That…” said Dean as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He reached for his gun and wrapped his fingers around the grip. The sound was getting louder, bearing down on them. He knew that sound now. Hoof beats.

As he drew his weapon a flash of movement shot into his field of vision. He had no time for logic, it was all instinct. He didn’t fire a shot. With weapon in hand, he seized Cas by the shoulders and plunged him to the ground, low, where a sword in the hand of a horseman couldn’t reach.

They landed with a whump. Dean kept his weapon hand high, not letting it hit the ground. His knees connected with hard earth and so did his palm. The shock of the impact lasted a breath and then the pain of it began radiating up from his knees and wrist and into the rest of his body.

Already turning to keep his gun trained on the movement, he didn’t even look at the man under him. In the dark, two shapes streaked by him with wild eyes heavy hoof beats. Deer.

Dean managed to keep from firing at them and exhaled as he watched them vanish into the dark between the trees. He relaxed his body then, sagging onto Cas who was sprawled beneath him. Cas dropped his head to the grass and laughed. Dean’s head fell too – resting for a moment on Cas’ chest as he began laughing too.

“Thank you Agent Bloom, for your fierce protection from… Bambi.”

Dean chuckled as he began to peel himself off of Cas. The man’s hands were resting on his shoulders and even when Dean began to pull away, Cas didn’t let go. Dean paused, looking at the man beneath him. It would be so easy.

Clearly, Cas wanted him to.

But he couldn’t. As much as he wanted to… he had to do what was best for everyone. If he liked this man, even a little, then he owed it to him to treat him right. And that meant not sinking in. Not pushing their lips together. Not letting feelings grow between them only to crush them.

As Dean pulled himself to his feet and held out a hand to help Cas up, he reminded himself of a few things.

_I am a hunter._

_There are evil things out there that need me to kill them._

_I have no home._

_And I definitely am not the ‘settle down to run an orchard bed and breakfast’ kind of guy._

_Even if I wasn’t a hunter… this man would be off limits to me._

Cas accepted Deans hand and allowed himself to be pulled to standing. Surprisingly, the lantern had stayed lit. They dusted off their knees and continued following the creek. It began to widen and become shallow again within twenty yards or so.

“Cas, how bout we go back to the truck and you take me over to where this creek exits your property.”

Cas nodded and led the way. Dean followed the man and his swinging lantern. From all around, darkness pressed in amongst the trees. The hunter forced himself to stop watching the confident strides of the man in front of him and keep his mind on his work. But it was hopeless - he was so gone for this man.

Back in the truck, Cas executed a three point turn and drove them back the way they’d come. They followed the edge of the property back to the east and turned south along the fence line to cross the property. Dean looked out the window at the darkness. The sky was visible and he watched the small wispy clouds as they floated over the face of a half moon. It was eerie. He loved it.

They turned west again, this time on the other end of Cas’ property. When they emerged at the cluster of barns, Dean watched the customers as they loaded their kids into cars… having to pull them away from magic spell of the orchard. The candles in the trees were a nice touch. They twinkled like fairy lights as they swayed in the branches. The jack-o-lanterns along the path glowed orange and the barn which housed Cas’ shop had soft amber light radiating from all its windows. As they passed, they crossed the road that exited the orchard and moved slowly between sparse trees before finally coming to a stop where the trees grew too thick for a vehicle to pass.

“We’ll have to walk from here, Agent Bloom,” said Cas as he got out and lit his lantern again.

“It’s Dean. Call me Dean.”

“Dean.” Said Cas as their eyes met.

They began walking into the woods side by side, lantern swinging between them.

“Can I ask you something Cas?”

“Of course, Dean.”

“You said it was your exes idea to buy this place and make it into a B&B, right? But he didn’t stay?”

“That’s right.”

“Why didn’t you just sell the place and move on?”

“I think about selling from time to time, I mean, I don’t have any family here and I miss my brothers. But every time I really consider leaving… I just can’t. I guess I like it here.”

Dean nodded. They walked quietly for a few more steps before Cas spoke again, “Life’s strange like that sometimes, right? All Zar wanted from the moment we arrived in this town was to settle here. One afternoon and he was ready to pack up all of our things and move across the country. As we were transitioning, he’d talk for hours about how wonderful it would be… wine in front of a roaring fire… lovely couples checking in and taking tours of our grand orchard… snowy nights on bear skin rugs…” Cas’ voice trailed off and Dean realized that the images Zar had conjured were very romantic. He could see why someone would grab onto that dream.

“I was the one who took some convincing,” admitted Cas, “But now, he’s gone and I’m here. Strange, right?”

“How long did he stay?” asked Dean keeping his eyes on the ground.

“Not even a season. He had been dismissed from his job in London, and decided to stay in the states with me permanently. But the second an offer came in – he took it and never looked back. I get a card from him once in a while. He’s offered to buy out his share, but I don’t want or need his money.”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” said Dean warmly. And he meant it. This man was incredible. Who could ever leave him?

Who indeed.


	3. The Orchard after Dark

 

Dean and Cas moved through the dark, stepping sideways around trees and bushes. There was no path here, but thankfully the woods weren’t thick enough to make the trip difficult. They traipsed through, snapping twigs and crunching dry leaves under foot. They didn't have to go too far before Dean heard the quiet babble of a creek over the night sounds of the woods.

“Dean wait,” says Cas as moves past him with the lantern, “Here’s the fence.”

“What’s on the other side?” asks Dean – he can’t see much beyond the wood plank fence that lines the property in this location.

“A dozen yards or so beyond this fence is the road you drove in on… Old Sleepy Hollow Road. Do you need to go further or is this sufficient?”

“This will do. How deep is the water here?” Asks Dean as he eyes the gap in the fence where the creek babbles through it.

“Well, the creek rises with rainfall. But on average, it’s probably about knee deep here.”

“Has rainfall been pretty average over the last few weeks?”

“Yes.”

Dean steps in front of Cas – so he can see the river without squinting past the lantern light. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when he’s seeing clearly, he notes that the gap in the fence is about 20 feet and that the banks of the creek are low here.

With things being so quiet, Dean can actually hear Cas breathing behind him. Slow, steady breaths. It brings Dean’s attention to how close they are standing.

“Well, I think that’s all I needed to see Cas. Thanks for bringing me out.”

“It’s no trouble, Dean. I’m happy to help,” said Cas as he stepped away.

They emerge from the trees and climb back into the truck. As they cut across the main lawn towards the rise that conceals Cas’ cottage, Dean notices that most of the cars have cleared out. The twinkling lights in the trees have been extinguished and one remaining employee is bent over – extinguishing the jack-o-lanterns. Dean enjoyed being pressed up next to Cas in the cab of the truck even though he knew the ride would be short.

He checked his phone but found no word from Sam. As they park and get out, a hooting owl draws his attention up into the trees, where he notices the night sky again. The moon looked closer now than it did before and the clouds were gone which left the sky clear and twinkling with countless stars.

“You don’t see stars like this in the city,” muttered Cas reverently as they moved to the door. Entering Cas’ cabin, Dean finds himself again surrounded by the nostalgic smell of campfire. The smoky scent lingers in the air is mingled with the ever-present scent of apples and cinnamon.

“Care for a drink, Dean?” he asks as he steps around his guest.

“Sure, thanks Cas,” said Dean, lingering in the living room but not sitting down.

“Are you amenable to trying something new?” Cas calls from the kitchen.

“Yeah, I think so,” he grinned.

Dean hears the pop of bottle tops from around the corner and then Cas emerges with a beer bottle in each hand.

“Fall blend,” he says, clearly proud.

Dean examines the bottle – it has no label. “You make this yourself?”

“Yes. One of my many hobbies. The winters are long you know.”

Dean huffs a laugh and takes a swig as Cas crouches down to light a fire. Dean watches the man’s back as he works and sips his beer as his mind conjures up all the things he’d like to do with Cas and then all the reasons why he shouldn’t do them. Growing frustrated with himself, he stifles the errant thoughts with conversation.

“You have a blend for each season?”

“I do. But the springtime stuff sucks no matter what I do. Even I can’t drink it.”

“Well, this is frickin awesome.”

“Thank you. Can you taste the pumpkin and honey?”

“Yeah. This is _the shit_.”

“Well, I’d like to bottle it and sell it in the store. But I can’t make the numbers work out. It’s just too expensive to imagine the endeavor being profitable.”

“That’s too bad. What other skills do you have Cas?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” he teases. His face is hidden from Dean but he can hear a smile on the man’s lips. Dean is still watching the man’s mouth-watering silhouette as he coaxes the fire to roaring flames and replaces the glass. He doesn’t get up right away… just turns to face Dean. With Cas perched on the hearth and Dean on the couch – there are at least six feet between them. But they talk quietly as they finish their drinks. When both are holding empty bottles, Cas gets up and takes Dean’s, his fingers brushing gently.

“I’ll go get the map.”

Dean nods – wishing he had his bottle back so there would be something to do with hands. Several minutes go by with Dean simply waiting on the couch and watching the orange flames dancing behind glass in the fireplace.

“Here you go,” said Cas when he returned with his plat map tucked under his arm. Good thing Cas remembered the reason Dean was here – he’d completely forgotten. Cas moved to the table that was adjacent to the kitchen and Dean got up to join him there. He looked over Cas’ shoulder as the map of Cas’ property was laid out for him.

“I made you a photocopy in my office, so this one is for you to keep,” he said as he pushed a smaller version of the map toward Dean.

“Thanks, Cas.”

“Sure. What are we looking at?”

“Your creek. Does this book have all the properties of the county in it?”

“Yes.”

“Can we look up the property across the road from you?”

“To the west?”

“Mhmm.”

“That’s just Douglas Park. It’s got some wooded areas but it’s mostly open fields. There’s some short hiking trails at the north end. It’s not in the book.”

“Okay. So you have Rosenwinkle's farm behind you and the park in front of you. What’s on the other side of the park?”

“The cemetery.”

“Sleepy Hollow Cemetery… over 90 acres, right?”

“I think so?”

“Cas,” said Dean, pulling away from the map and leaning on the table to look at him fully, “What do you know about the Horseman's Hollow?”

“It’s fun. It’s worth the price of admission.”

“We were going to check it out tonight before this thing with Nicki came up. Two of the victims were employed there.”

“I thought you weren’t able to discuss the case with me?”

“I’m not.” said Dean with a smile, realizing what he was doing. It was just easy to get comfortable with Cas.

“Would you like some pie, Dean?”

“Hell yes.”

Cas nodded and headed for the kitchen. Dean returned his attention to the map, searching out the locations he’d scouted tonight in an attempt to get his bearings. A few minutes later Cas was calling to him from the kitchen.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” he answered, stepping toward the kitchen and then lingering in the doorway.

“Ice cream with your pie?”

“Absolutely,” he answered firmly. He watched Cas scoop it out onto the plates and put the container away. Then he followed the man when he picked up both plates and left the kitchen. They passed through a set of French doors and emerged onto a screened in porch. There was a wooden table out here and it was covered with a red checked gingham table cloth. Cas set their plates down and settled into a chair.

Dean shook off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of his chair before sitting down. Cas looked incredible in the candle light – his tan skin was practically glowing and his eyes were large and dark. His hair was windblown from being out with Dean and having taken a tumble in the ‘Bambi attack’ that Dean knew he’d never live down.

“You made this too, didn’t you?” asked Dean as he noticed how different this pie looked from the store bought ones he usually enjoyed. It also smelled far better than anything he’d ever bought – even in better restaurants. The apples were sliced thin and stacked high. The crust was perfect. Buttery and flaky with a dusting of cinnamon sugar on top. The sauce on the fruit wasn’t sticky and thick like processed pie filling. It was light and smooth and as he sank his teeth into the first bite, he couldn’t hold back the hum of satisfaction that rumbled in his throat.

Cas smiled, watching Dean enjoy the treat. They didn’t talk as they ate and Dean stopped trying to find something else to look at. Cas in the glow of candles was all he wanted to see. Around them, the air moved softly through the screens, occasionally buffeting the candles and causing them to flicker. Behind Cas was mostly darkness.

When they’d finished eating, Dean checked his phone and found a message from Sam saying that Nicki had been released and he was taking her home. As he read his message, Cas stood and collected their plates. Dean stood with him, but didn’t follow Cas. Something outside had caught his attention. He moved to the screen. Once he was standing right in front of it, his eyes were able to adjust and see Cas’ back yard in the moonlight. The sky had a deep purple tinge to it now, with the moon having moved much higher in the sky. Behind the cabin, the property sloped downhill. First gently – a small patch of open grass that made up Cas’ back yard, then more steeply as the trees grew thicker.

Across the lawn and between the trees – the soft yellow pulses of fireflies lit up the yard like a magical place.

“Another?” asked Cas from behind him.

Dean turned to find Cas standing there and offering him another beer. He took it and nodded his thanks.

“See something interesting? A deer perhaps?” joked Cas.

“I knew that was gonna haunt me.”

“At least you didn’t shoot them,” Cas snickered.

Dean returned his attention to the fairyland that was Cas’ backyard. “I’ve never seen fireflies like this… there’s so many.”

“I know. It reminds me of my childhood. My brothers and I filled a lot of jars with lightening bugs and frogs.”

“Really?” said Dean, “I never did that. Not even once.”

Dean watched the corner of Cas’ mouth tick – a trace of a momentary smile, “Never too late, Dean,” he said as he pivoted. Dean watched as Cas blew out one of the candles that was sitting in the bottom of a Mason jar and removed it. The man tipped his head in invitation and then stepped out the back door, holding the jar in his hand. Dean followed him down the steps and through the lush grass. He watched Cas as the man walked slowly – carefully reaching out to pluck a small bug from flight and deposit it gently into the jar. Dean copied his action and when he felt the soft tickle of a little creature crawling inside his closed fist, he stepped up to the jar and gently shook the tiny thing in.

As he pulled his hand away, Cas met his eye and he felt something pass between them. If there was any doubt in Dean’s mind about what they both wanted – it was erased in this moment. He tore his eyes away from the object of his desire and moved farther out into the yard, reaching for another little twinkle.

Dean had no idea how much time was passing and he wasn’t inclined to look at watch. He just walked through the thick grass, enjoying the smell of the pine trees around them and the tickle of the little winged creatures that he carried in his palm. It didn’t take long before the jar was glowing mightily.

Cas surprised him then, settling into the grass and stretching out on his back. Dean only paused a moment before joining him; the bright glowing jar tucked into the grass between them.

“Looking at the stars?”

“Yes.”

Dean had nothing more to say. This was the strangest and most wonderful night he could remember having in a long time. He rolled to his side and pulled the jar close to his face to examine it more closely. He could feel Cas looking at him, but continued to watch their sweet captives instead.

“You know… they light up to signal a mate,” said Cas softly.

“You don’t say.”

Dean felt the jar lifted from his hands. Cas took the lid off of it and set it down out of the way, allowing the bugs freedom, and leaving him and Dean both on their sides in the grass face-to-face. Dean knew better. He knew Cas deserved better. But really… how could he not kiss this man? How could he get up and walk away? He knew he couldn’t.

Cas’ mouth dropped open like he was going to speak – but then he said nothing. He closed it again, thoughtful.

Dean’s voice was husky when he spoke, “I’ve been thinking about you, Cas.”

And dammit if Cas didn’t burst out laughing.

“What?” demanded Dean, confused.

“Umm… I’m a man Dean, so I know what that really means.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means you were thinking about me when you got off.”

Dean gaped. But Cas was unapologetic.

“What did we do when you thought of us Dean? Do I get to know?”

Dean watched as Cas pushed his body forward a few inches – closing the space between them. Dean couldn’t think of a single thing to say. But in his peripheral vision, he saw Cas’ arm reaching out for him.

“C’mon Dean… tell me… I’m dying to know,” said Cas.

And then all the air left Deans lungs – punched out of him as he felt the man’s hand on him. He sucked in a huge breath as he felt that hand rub over his crotch. No intelligible words came out of his mouth, but inside his head he was screaming… “there’s a hand on my dick… the man put his hand on my dick… it’s still there… there’s a hand on my dick…”

Years of secretly wondering what it would be like… countless fantasies of having another man touch him like this… it all came down to this. This was happening. This WAS HAPPENING.

“Uugghh,” was all that came out of his mouth, but Cas never broke eye contact. His eyelids dipped, lowered a bit, but he never closed them. He watched Dean as he laid there paralyzed with shock and overwhelmed with the feeling of a strong hand cupping his cock firmly.

As his dick filled at Cas’ touch, Dean crumpled. He had been laying on his side with his elbow in the grass and his head perched on his palm. Now, he withered forward and fell onto Cas. His head rested against the man’s chest and his legs tucked up a bit, feet touching Cas’ shins. His breath was heavy – as if he’d just run for miles and miles and he couldn’t keep himself calm. He felt like a little boy having his first handie. It was embarrassing how much this was affecting him – he feared he may actually cum in his pants. “Cas” he managed to call out softly.

“Oh Dean,” the man answered him, “I didn’t know.” And with that, Cas shifted a little, bringing them closer together and rolling Dean onto his back. The stars came into view and then were gone as Dean shut his eyes tight, wanting to feel every single tingle that was radiating from his groin, where the weight of Cas’ hand still rested.

He felt and heard his belt being undone but didn’t open his eyes – couldn’t. He focused on breathing and not shooting in his pants. This was so different from the feel of a woman touching him. Cas was firm and commanding and heavy handed. He untucked Dean from his pants and briefs and when his skin felt the cool night air caressing his swollen cock, he groaned again.

“Cas,” he whispered, but he couldn’t remember what he’d wanted to say. Perhaps… I’ve never been with a man before? Perhaps… I’ve never felt this way before? He doesn’t know and it doesn’t matter. His body responded without any instructions from his brain. His hands scrambled in the grass and he looked to Cas desperately.

“I’ve got you Dean, I’ve got you,” whispered Cas. And then the man scuttled closer and bent over and then there was wet heat sliding down him, inch by aching inch. When Cas descended on him, Dean sucked in another ragged breath – his leg twitched a few times and his hands clenched at grass, then pants, a knee. Cas’ knee. That’s where his hand came to rest.

Dean was trying to breathe evenly as Cas' mouth moved up and down on him but the breaths were shallow and he was soon panting as he was worked over. It was shamefully quick, and when he came, he was stunned to feel the heat stay latched on him, the lips lock tight, the man drink him down. He felt the constriction of the swallow each time and it tugged euphoria down lower and lower in his stomach. It felt like Cas was going to suck his stomach out the tip.

Dean’s back arched involuntarily and his eyes snapped open. He tipped his head up and drank in the obscene sight of a man’s face connected tightly to his package – dark unruly hair under his fists. He didn’t even remember reaching for the man and now he had to work to relax his fingers which were pulling that soft hair tightly in an iron grip.

“Sorry,” muttered Dean as his head flopped back into the grass, “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay Dean,” said Cas in a hoarse voice as he came up for air, “I loved it.”

They were silent for a minute or two, just breathing. Then, Cas lifted his head from Dean’s stomach and began tucking Dean back into his pants; buckling his belt.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” whispered Dean.

“Your first time...” said Cas softly, “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. That was awesome… I know I should repay the favor… maybe just give me a sec?”

“No Dean. There’s no repaying anything,” Cas told him as he laid out beside him.

Dean was shot out. He was a wet noodle. Literally. And he’d never been so satisfied in his life. He blinked and looked to the heavens – seeing stars scattered over head. A lightening bug dipped in from above and he tracked its pulse of light as it dimmed. Breathing normally now, he found the strength to roll a bit and wrap an arm around the owner of this incredible place, pulling him close again. He rested his forehead against Cas’ and whispered, “Is it okay to kiss you?”

“Please,” replied Cas as he moved closer. Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to the soft swollen lips that had just sucked his cock. Affection swelled in his chest as he lingered there and then gently brushed his tongue against those sticky, salty lips; quietly asking for Cas to open up to him. And when he did – Dean tasted himself, felt the slimy coating of his spunk on Cas’ teeth and tongue. The smell and taste was overwhelming and it sent a jolt to his groin. For a second, he honestly thought he may get hard again.

Cas leaned in then and deepened their kiss. Dean surrendered to it and let his body move forward of its own volition to tangle his arms and legs with this man – connect to him more fully – be as close as possible.

It was at this moment that his peace was shattered. He heard the rumble of the Impala pulling up out front. His perfect bubble burst like shattered glass.

The real world came screaming back to him. The one in which he was a hunter. And had a brother. And had a case.

He signed regret onto Cas’ cheek and took one last moment to feel the man’s rough stubble against his own before he began pulling away.


	4. The Horseman is Coming

 

As before, Cas accepts Dean's hand and allows Dean to pull him to his feet. This time Dean doesn’t turn. He stays, hand joined with Cas between them and eyes locked. Dean leans in a little, unable to keep so much distance between them now, and Cas immediately latches onto him sealing their lips together. They stay pressed together and kissing softly until the engine noise of the Impala cuts off and leaves the night quiet again.

Dean follows Cas back up the steps and into the cabin. Just as they enter, there’s a knock at the door. Cas nods for Dean to answer and heads for the kitchen, calling over his shoulder for them not to leave yet.

When Dean opens the door, he wonders if Sam will notice anything. Belatedly he worries that there might be wet spots on his clothes or a small spunk stain on his slacks… or a leaf in his hair.  But when Sam steps in, it takes all Deans attention. His brother is sagging – clearly it’s been a long night.

“What happened?” asked Dean – gesturing for Sam to come in.

“Well, I saw the footage from the security cam at the gas station. She went full Chuck Norris. The witnesses say that Scott had just offered his condolences and she sprang on him. I guess she was shouting about how he always picked on Darin when he was alive and how dare he talk to her now that her brother is dead.”

Dean nodded. He could understand the sentiment.

“How did she get released?”

“Scott and his family aren’t pressing charges. No reason to keep her.”

Sam seemed to wonder why they weren’t leaving, but before anyone could verbalize the thought, Cas stepped into the room. He seemed very calm and composed compared to how Dean was feeling. He was working hard to act normal and he felt nervous and overheated.

Cas greeted Sam and handed him a wrapped pie tin. One glance and Dean recognized it as the pie they’d eaten earlier and he couldn’t suppress his smile. “Thanks Cas,” he said warmly as he watched Sam accept the pie.

Dean checked his watch. For the first time all evening. He realized it had been over an hour since his brother had texted to say he was taking Nicki home. He waited until they were in the car before he began giving his brother shit.

“An hour Sam? To drive Nicki five blocks?”

Sam didn’t reply. He just issued a ‘bitch face’ and held Cas’ pie in his lap.

“Did ya get her all tucked in Sammy?” prodded Dean.

“You’re one to talk,” Sam pushed back at him, “you weren’t exactly counting the minutes were you?”

“Huh?”

“Dean, you don’t even have to admit it to me. I can see it on you… something happened with him.”

Dean gritted his teeth and kept his eyes on the road. He was screwed. If he denied it he’d look even guiltier. If he didn’t… he’d be affirming his brother. In the passing moments it took him to figure out how to answer – he was made. Sam was smug in the seat beside him.

They’d been back in the room for less than two minutes when they tore into the pie. Sam was obviously impressed with its quality. Dean had never seen his brother inhale a piece of pie like that. When he’d settled back against his pillow, rubbing his satisfied belly, Dean’s phone chirped. He picked it up and found a message from Cas.

“Just making sure you got home ok agent. There’s been a lot of deer attacks lately.”

In response, Dean sent back a picture of the empty pie tin.

When his phone chirped again, Dean glanced at the image Cas had replied him. It was the firefly jar. There were still a couple lights in it.

Dean’s heart thumped heavily in his ribcage at the reminder of what had happened in the grass next to that jar. He had half a mind to send Cas a picture of his cock with his fist wrapped around it. But instead he simply sent, “Nite Cas.”

“Nite Dean.”

 

 

 

 

Sam’s phone woke them in the middle of the night. “This is getting old Sammy,” barked Dean as he put feet on the cold floor and began putting his suit back on.

This time, the body was on the south bank of the river. And, they didn’t need to wait for confirmation of identity. Everyone knew who this was. He was just in the police station a few hours ago – signing off that he’d be pressing no charges against Nicki Hansen. Here, under the swirling of red and blue lights, was the decapitated body of Scott Collins.

Scott appeared to have been walking west, parallel to the river. Hoof prints were discernible and based on their path, Sam and Dean were able to deduce that the horseman had chased Scott halfway up this hill before successfully lobbing off his head. It had rolled back down the hill a ways and come to rest at the base of a tree – quite far from the body.

Detective Camp told them it had taken a while to actually find the head. He pointed to the top of the hill where a line of low-rent buildings stood. Even in the dark it was clear that those houses had once been stately mansions. Now they’d been divided up into cheap apartments. Camp explained that Scott and his mother lived in one of those apartments. Much like Ted Morgan, this boy had met his demise a very short distance from his home.

“Do we know if Scott was working tonight?” asked Sam.

“Still waiting on that info agents, but smart money is on yes.”

Sam turned his body away from Detective Camp and quietly told Dean that they needed to be at Haunted Hollow tonight when it opened. Dean couldn’t agree more. When there was nothing left to review near the body, they headed back to the Impala. Sam slid into the back seat and opened up his briefcase and laptop – making himself a little workstation as they waited for the official findings on several key points. Dean had settled into the passenger side of the front seat, but he reached across to start up his baby and get some heat going.

Camp was lingering nearby – Dean watched the detective’s breath fog with each exhale as he paced near his cruiser.  The man was looking tired and haggard. Dean had to chuckle at the irony of it all. It was Halloween in Sleepy Hollow. The headless horseman was racking up a body count that was making daily news. And his image was everywhere… on the patrol cars, on the police uniforms, on the signs around town, on the doors of businesses… he was everywhere.

Dean glanced at the glove box. There was still a bottle of honey in there. He opened it and pulled out the bottle, turning it over and over in his hands.

“He bottles that himself you know,” said Sam from the backseat. Dean hadn’t even noticed Sam looking.

“Yeah. You know he makes beer too? It’s good.”

“Well, between the beer and the pie, he’s got you. Doesn’t he?”

“Sam,” sighed Dean, “What am I doing?”

“You’re letting yourself live a little.”

Dean traced the label of the honey with his thumb, and before he even knew what he was doing, he popped the cap. His thumb toyed with it in the awkward silence. Then, for some reason, he tipped it to his mouth and sucked down a few drops. Honestly, it was just honey. Same flavor as any other honey he’d ever had. But knowing that it had been placed in his hands as a flirtation made it twice as sweet. Thinking of Cas, even in the freezing dead of night at a crime scene, made him warm inside.

“Oh you are so far gone,” laughed Sam as he returned his attention to the work in front of him.

“I aint the only one,” retorted Dean.

“What, Dean? I like her. So what? She’s incredible. She’s smart and funny and feisty and sexy. Who can blame me?”

Dean smiled to himself as he popped the honey back in the glove box, “She’s lonely.”

“I’m sure she is. She dropped out of school and left her entire life behind to come back here and raise her little brother. Now he’s gone.”

“What’s she gonna do now?”

“She’s not sure yet. The estate was pretty big. Her parents were horse people. She’s already sold most of the horses. She only kept her horse and Darin’s. Now she’s thinking maybe she’ll sell those too and just put the entire property on the market.”

“I didn’t know she had horses out there.”

“Well, yeah, Darin was riding his the night he died. All those riders use their own horses.”

“Wow. So your girl can ride…” Dean’s smile slid into a smirk as he began to tease his little brother, “Can she ride Sammy? Can she?”

“Is everything innuendo to you Dean?”

“Yep.”

“Well, not that you actually care Dean, but she said she’s also considered just staying here. Taking on her parents old customers and rebuilding their business. She knows she can’t keep the property unless she does that. Seems like she’s just having trouble deciding which way she wants to go. I think she’s just spent too much time doing what she should do… now that it’s up to her… she can’t choose.”

“Well, you’re probably right about that. Now, Dr. Phil, what do you recommend you and I do about the mess _we’re_ fuckin makin’ here in Sleepy Hollow Sam?”

“You mean because we can’t solve the case? We could call Bobby again and see if he has any thoughts.”

“No Sam. I mean the mess we’re makin for Nicki and Cas when we do solve the case and haul ass out of here.”

The car got very quiet. Dean didn’t need to say more. He’d warned Sam about getting involved with Nicki. And he could see now how involved his brother really was with the girl. He was talking about her as if he knew very well, like they’d had deep conversations. Possibly they had.

Dean glanced at the glove box again and thought of Cas. Why hadn’t he taken his own advice? He knew better than to do what he’d done. But he’d done it anyway, been selfish. Now Cas would pay the price. A knock on his window pulled him from his self-loathing. Dean rolled down his window and was told that there would be a grief counselor at the High School today and asked if the boys would meet with him. Dean nodded somberly and took the business card when Camp handed it to him. He tucked it in his suit jacket and told the old codger to get some sleep.

Once they had all the information they’d been waiting on, they went back to the hotel. It was almost 6:00 am but they weren’t due at the High School until 9:00. Sam spent the time sitting at the little table – hunched over his laptop. Dean spread their paperwork out on one of the beds and paced the room as he tried to trace the logic of the attacks and find that elusive common thread that would lead them to the horseman.

“I think it’s the river,” said Dean firmly, “I just don’t know _how_. Or _why_.”

“I think our answer is at Haunted Hollow. We go. Tonight.” Said Sam firmly.

Dean nodded. “Ya know what really chaps my hide? Rosenwinkle. He’s so far from the other crime scenes… so much older than the other vics… what the fuck, Sam?” Dean was low on sleep and getting frustrated. By the time they arrived at the High School he was downright cranky. The murders were all anyone was talking about – teens and teachers alike. It did nothing to bolster Dean’s mood. They had a list of kids to talk to and they stared with the most important. David Wallace. The other students knew him as Dave and he’d been part of the trio of bully’s who had been known for giving Darin Hansen a hard time.

This was their second time questioning the young man. But unlike last time, he had no bravado. No confidence. He was visibly nervous when he walked into the little room and it only got worse the more they questioned him. It didn’t take much pressure to break him.

His response to Deans vague threat was to leap from his seat and scream, “I don’t give a shit! I’m a dead fucking man! Jail? I don’t care about jail! The fucking horseman is real and he’s coming for me!”

“What makes you think he’s coming for you?” asked Sam stoically.

“Well, he’s already gotten my two best friends! He’s picking us off like flies!”

“Why would the horseman be targeting your friends… or even you?” Sam asked him, stepping closer.

“Because,” he was breathing heavily and looking back and forth between Dean and Sam, “Because… because we killed him ok? We killed Darin while he was playing horseman! And now he’s the fucking horseman!”

“You killed Darin?” asked Sam quietly.

“It was an accident. We only meant to scare him. But he’s dead. And now he’s coming for us… picking us off one by one. Teddy was lucky… bastard never saw it coming. Not me… I’m here like a sitting duck just waiting for the end! I haven’t slept in days… I can’t eat… the fucking anticipation is killing me… I feel it… he’s coming for me!”

The kid was at his wit’s end and it took more patience then Dean possessed to calm him. Sam had to step in and settle the boy before they could get any more information from him. Sam explained that they would protect him, but in order to do that, they needed to know everything.

“Ok… so Darin was fun to pick on. Always has been. And we found out from our boss that he was going to propose to Suzi on the ride that night. So, we waited in the trees and jumped out at him. Meant to just scare him – maybe see him fall. Cry.”

David’s eyes were full of tears now as he recounted it, “When his horse reared up we cheered. It was so perfect. But then, he didn’t get up. We said his name and even shook him. It never even occurred to us that he might get hurt. He’s been riding all his life. It was just a joke… a joke,” the kid sniveled.

“So you think he’s come back as the horseman to get revenge?” asked Dean.

The kid nodded.

“Do you work tonight?” asked Sam. “Yeah. Was gonna call in sick or quit. No reason to be at the river and make it easy for him to get me, right?”

“Wrong,” said Dean firmly, “You’ll be at the river tonight.”

“We’ll be with you,” said Sam reassuringly, “We’ll have eyes on you the entire time.”

 

 

 

Shortly after lunch, Dean received a text from Cas asking him out on a date. Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Aside from his conflicted feelings about getting involved with Cas when he’d soon be leaving town, he also had to admit that it was strange to be asked on a date. It was usually Dean who did the asking.

Cas must’ve remembered Dean asking him about Horseman’s Hollow last night, because the message read, “Have tickets for the Hollow tonight. Want to go with me?”

He may have felt a little strange about being asked out like a girl, but he couldn’t deny wanting to say yes. He would be at the Hollow tonight regardless… how much nicer would it be if Cas were with him?

Immediately on the heels of that was another thought… the thought of Cas being nearby if the horseman did appear. The thought of Cas’ neck being anywhere near the horseman’s sword. He responded immediately.

“Sorry can’t. Have to work tonight.” It only took him a minute or two to follow up that message with another, “You stay away from the Hollow tonight.”

“Why?” came the response.

“We’re staking it out tonight. Can’t have you there.”

“Will I be a distraction?”

Dean chuckled. For the first time today, he smiled. Then he replied, “Not if you stay home like a good boy.”

The immediate reply from Cas was, “I may have given you the wrong impression. I’m not a good boy.”

“Be a good boy tonight.” replied Dean.

Just then, Sam wandered up. He looked around and said, “I think we’re wrapped here. Let’s go get some sleep. It’s gonna be a long night.”

 

 

 

Dean was surprised by the scope of the Horseman’s Hollow. It spanned several buildings and made use of a lot of open ground. The tourists moved about but the characters stayed in predetermined spots and carried on according to a script. The costumes were detailed and the make-up was gruesome. It was a truly top-notch production.

Dean watched from a distance, partially obscured by foliage. His eyes wandered the small corner of the grounds he could see from where he crouched. Detective Camp had been right. Everything was in keeping with the period and thus blended with the buildings on the grounds – which were actual historical buildings.

The concept was that the entire village had been taken over by a depraved horseman. The townsfolk had been turned into various personifications of evil and grotesque creatures, but the ragged clothes that hung from them were all done in keeping with the style of the 1800's. Torches and lanterns gave the only light. Screams echoed constantly off the walls of the buildings and surrounding trees as those in line slowly stepped forward to tour this village of death at their own pace.

From his vantage point up the hill, away from the action, Dean watched David. He was dressed as inn keeper – face made up powder white and made to look ghostly, white frilly sleeves hanging out from a red colonial era jacket and black riding boots. He held a lantern in his hand as he stood in the doorway and beckoned people inside, setting them up for the bigger scare that lay around the corner

Dean had maybe 50 yards between them which was mostly open ground. He could see Sam from here too. Sam was posted between David and the river; settled into a cluster of bushes. Both of them were keeping an eye on David and the river. They were both certain that if the horseman appeared it would be after the show shut down for the evening – that’s how it had been with the other two boys who’d died on the banks of this river. But it was obvious that their presence was reassuring to Dave and when dealing with the supernatural it was always best to be vigilant.

Dean was just starting to get really cold when he got a text from Cas.

“I’m a bad boy Dean.”

“You better be home Cas. I’m not kidding.”

“I’m here Dean. I brought you something. Where are you?”

“Where are _you_?” Dean fired back.

“In line.”

“I’m around behind the white building… halfway up the hill. Find me quick cause you’re not staying long.”

It was another half hour before he noticed Cas making his way up the hill. Dean stood up so he could be seen and then the two of them settled in together on the cold, hard ground under a large dead tree.

“Sorry, I had to wait a long time in the line,” whispered Cas.

“What is all that?” asked Dean, gesturing to the bag Cas was carrying.

“Coffee,” said Cas, handing him a thermos, “and fresh apple fritters.”

“Damn Cas. You know what you’re doin don’t you?”

“It’s been said.” He smirked.

“This is good,” said Dean ardently as he sank his teeth into the warm confection, “Really good.”

Cas nodded his thanks for Deans praise.

They sipped coffee quietly for a few minutes and Dean ate his treats. His heart was warm having Cas with him and he wished for a moment that Cas would want to hunt with them. Abandon his orchard and ride off with Dean in his Baby. Fight with Sam over the front seat and sit with his thigh pressing on Deans for every future stake out.

“Where is Sam?” Cas asked him, interrupting his ridiculous daydream.

“See that clump of bushes over there?” asked Dean – pointing.

“Oh yes, I see him. Would he like some coffee too?”

“Probably. But we shouldn’t draw attention to him. He’s close to the river.”

“The river? What’s the river got to do with this?”

“Well if you’re gonna be all nosy, I may as well tell ya. At the crime scenes we’re seeing hoof prints that come up out of the river and then return to it.”

“I see. But now you have me wondering what that has to do with my creek?”

“That’s what I can’t figure,” said Dean honestly, “Rosenwinkle’s the only vic that’s not a high school student. He’s also the only vic killed so far from water. But Rosenwinkles wife said the horseman rode off towards your property after he killed her husband. Since you have water on your property and water was a part of the other murders… it seemed like a connection there. But I really can’t figure it out.”

“So the water is your big hang up? Figuring out how it plays into the attacks?”

“Yeah, that and just figuring out what Rosenwinkle has to do with any of this anyway…”

“He was douche.”

“What?”

“He was an asshole.”

“I thought you didn’t know him?”

“I didn’t. But Zar did. They drank together a lot. The dude was a lush. Drove drunk all the time. I had to go pick up Zar at the bar more than once to keep him from riding home with that guy.”

“I thought he was clean… had a year sobriety?”

“Maybe. I haven’t thought of him at all since Zar left. Not until you came around and started asking questions.”

Dean was sipping on the last of his coffee when he started to connect the dots. Rosenwinkle had been a drunk driving asshole. About a year ago Darin and Nicki’s parents had been killed by a drunk driver. No one had ever figured out who the drunk was that hit them, but Rosenwinkle had sobered up, right at that same time? Moved his brother into his house for support at that same time? Accident a year ago. A year sober.

“That’s it!” said Dean loudly as he handed the thermos back to Cas. His mind was churning now… firing on all cylinders…

… _That’s how Rosenwinkle plays into it_ , he thought, _he’s the drunk that killed Darin's parents! Darin died and then began exacting revenge on those who had wronged him! First the man who killed his parents and then the teens that had bullied him and accidentally killed him._ It made sense. It felt right. This was the connection.

He stood, but then sat back down again. Cas was looking at him with wide eyes, patiently waiting for an explanation. But there was still something missing. What was enabling Darin to manifest as the horseman?

Dean picked up the phone and called Sam. “Darin was cremated, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Think of a token… something that would allow…” Dean’s voice trailed off as his mind flashed to Nicki. The first day they’d interviewed her, he’d asked about her necklace.

“It was his,” she’d told them, “Darin’s ring…” …for his girlfriend. He’d ridden out with it that night to propose to her. It had been with his things at the crime scene and Nicki had taken it. She’d been wearing it.

“Sam, is Nicki still wearing that necklace with a ring on it?”

Sam was slow to speak, but Dean watched his clump of bushes and saw him stand up and look towards them, “Yes.” He said quietly. There was a moment of silence and then Sam said, “Token?”

“Yes,” said Dean watching Sam as he started walking towards them.

“It can’t be her, Dean, it’ can’t. She’s so little – you have to be strong to wield a sword like that – it’s not easy to sever a head – she’s not strong enough” argued Sam as he covered the ground between their hiding spaces.

Dean said, “Unless she’s…”

“Possessed,” said Sam – finishing his sentence.

“She can ride,” said Dean firmly, “and I bet she has a horseman costume.” Dean didn’t know if she had one or not. But it was highly likely that if Darin was working as a horseman at two different locations he probably had at least one costume still sitting unused in the closet or hamper after his death.

“And a black horse,” said Sam, “she rides a black horse.”

As his brother stepped up to him, Dean remembered that Cas was here. He tried to think back, catalog the things he’d said. He couldn’t be sure of what Cas had overheard.

Dean looked from his brother to Cas and back, “I can go. You can stay on Dave,” said Dean.

“No Dean. I’ll go. I’ll call you when I know something,” as Sam was turning to leave them, he turned back and added, “Watch him.”

Dean didn’t like Sam’s implication that he would somehow neglect two watch the high school boy he was crouched here to protect - just because Cas was with him. But he let it go. Sam was going to stop the horseman from riding tonight. And Dean? Dean had some explaining to do.

“Cas, I gotta tell you something.” He said clutching his coffee cup and looking at the ground.

“What is it Dean?”

“I’m not an FBI agent.”

“What are you?”

“I’m a hunter.”

Dean turned to Cas and watched him grow stiff as he swallowed hard and croaked out, “What do you hunt Dean?”

“Supernatural shit, Cas. Ghosts and stuff.”

Cas nodded, “Ghosts are real?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve always thought so,” he said relaxing a little.

Dean smiled, loving how easily Cas accepted Deans reality. “You’re taking this well,” he said.

Cas shrugged.

“I’ve only ever told one other person about what I do.”

“What happened?”

“She called me crazy and never wanted to see me again.”

Cas didn’t speak.

“She called me up last year, out of the blue, when some weird shit started happening in her town – to her family. Suddenly she was very understanding.”

“Don’t feel bad Dean,” said Cas, laying a reassuring hand on his knee, “Most people don’t believe things like that unless they’ve seen it for themselves. It doesn’t mean she didn’t care for you.”

“Water under the bridge,” said Dean firmly to Cas. He returned his attention to David, chuckling as the boy elicited a scream from a woman as she stepped past him. Dean was happy to have Cas’ company. He thought briefly that if all went well… he could ride away with Cas afterward. Leave Baby with Sam and cruise the narrow streets of town with Cas in his old truck. Maybe even park somewhere. He smiled just thinking of it.

Cas had been quiet beside him for a while but eventually asked, “What were you saying about possession?”

“Sometimes,” said Dean as he settled back down to resume surveillance, “Sometimes a person’s spirit can become attached to an object that was important to them. Then, when someone’s in contact with that object… they can be possessed by the spirit. We think that for Darin it’s the ring that Nicki’s been wearing.

“You think that’s why she attacked Scott at the gas station?”

“Possibly. Although, I can see it just being grief too. Who knows?”

“How will Sam stop her?”

“Destroy the ring.”

“And then she’ll go back to herself?”

“That’s usually how it works.”

“Intriguing.”

“You should go Cas.”

“Why? If Sam’s going to destroy the ring, what’s the danger in me sitting here?”

“Well, nothing. If we’re right. But shit happens... we might be wrong... she might get by him. Anything could happen.”

“Alright Dean,” said Cas softly, “I’ll head home.” And without any preamble, Cas leaned in and put his lips to the scruff of Dean’s beard. It was just a quick thing, easy and natural, like everything else Cas did. Dean closed his eyes and smiled in receipt of the man’s affection.

As Cas pulled away from him and stood to leave, the thought of Cas driving home alone on a misty blacktop in his old truck made Dean cold inside.

“Ya know what? You should stay,” said Dean, uncertain even as he said it, “stay.”

Cas sank back down and leaned up against the trunk of the enormous tree. It was quiet for minute or two; as if Cas knew that Dean was uncertain. But eventually he asked, “So, you’re watching David?”

“Yep.”

“Which is he?”

“The one in the red coat with the lantern… right there…” said Dean pointing.

“And what are we watching for?”

“We _were_ watching for the horseman. We didn’t really expect him until the place closed down, but ya can’t be too careful, right?”

“And what would you have done if the horseman came?”

“Well, first priority would be keeping David safe, second priority would be to find out exactly what the horseman was. Things aren’t always what they seem. Even when you think you know what you’re dealing with – sometimes you’re wrong.”

“Dean, what I’m asking is, how would you protect David from the horseman? Shoot him? How does that even work if he’s already dead?”

Dean gave Cas a wink and pulled aside the oversized leather jacket he wore. It used to be his fathers and that’s why he loved it. But the extra room in it had the added benefit of hiding the weapons he frequently carried. As he gave Cas a glimpse inside the jacket, he explained. “It’s a sawed off. It’s loaded with salt rounds.”

“Salt?” questioned Cas.

“Yep. Dead things hate salt. And iron,” added dean as he flipped open the other side of his jacket and allowed Cas to see the small sized crow bar he was carrying.”

“Okay, but I’m still not sure I get the connection to water.”

“Well,” replied Dean as he pulled a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket, “look at this.”

Cas leaned in as Dean unfolded the paper and laid it on his lap, “This map from your book helped a lot, by the way, so thanks.”

Cas gave him a quick smile before returning his attention to the map that Dean had spread out. “Here’s Nicki’s house,” said Dean pointing, “and here are the locations where high school kids died. And up here is Rosenwinkle farms.” Cas nodded.

“My theory,” continued Dean, “Is that Nicki is possessed by her brother’s spirit. He’s after those who wronged him. I’m not sure why he’s disguising her as the horseman to carry out his kills. From what I gather, he was a bit of theater geek. Maybe he just likes the drama and irony of it. Or maybe he loves his sister enough to want to disguise her so that she won’t be recognized. Maybe he just feels compelled to ride as the horseman since that’s what he was doing when he died. Like, unfinished business? I’m not gonna pretend to know what his motivations are. But if I’m right, he’s compelling Nicki to ride out as the horseman and kill for him.

The river, I think, is just the way to avoid being caught. If she just rode out from her barn, rolled a head and then galloped home again… the cops would’ve followed her trail and been at her doorstep right away. I think, she rides to the river and then follows it to the crime scene. She only comes out of the river long enough to make her attack and then gets back in the water – it’s all so shallow around here. She could just be walking up and downriver on horseback and no one would notice since its dark. So far, doing that has kept anyone from being able to track her more than a few dozen yards.”

“See?” asked Dean as he trailed his finger along the map, following the river, “it goes right through those trails you mentioned in Douglas Park. From Rosenwinkles place, she only had to cover one field on horseback. Then she took to the creek, entering right near where the creek comes onto your land. Then she followed it through the orchard and came out at the road. She had to cover a short distance on land again but then she was able to pick up the river at the trails in Douglas Park and then she was invisible again; almost all the way to her house.”

 Dean was silent for a moment, but then continued, “You know, it wouldn’t surprise me if the costume is actually hidden along the trail somewhere. That way, if she was seen riding near her home she’d look normal. Like she was just out for a ride. Once she crosses the street and gets into the woods she can put on that costume. When she emerges at the scene – the vics see her comin and runs.”

“But it’s not really her? It’s her brother?”

“Yeah Cas. If I’m right, it’s Darin that’s chopping heads off, not Nicki. She may be semi-conscious and functional or she may be completely out of it. I can’t be sure.”

Dean’s phone chirped just then. He looked down at the message from Sam.

“She’s not here. Her horse is gone. On my way back.”

“Shit,” said Dean, “Cas, you need to go.”

“Why?”

“The horseman is coming.”


	5. The Use of Iron and Salt

 

“I’m getting whiplash from all the stay and go, Dean. What do you really want me to do? Should I go?”

“Yes. No. I don’t…” Dean looked back at his charge – lantern swinging in his hand and looking around – the throng of customers had abated and there weren’t many left - Dean had to acknowledge he’d not been watching as carefully with Cas here. Sam had been right and it pissed him of.

“I don’t want you to go, Cas,” he sighed, “but I think I need you to.”

“You think she’ll ride up from the river over there?” asked Cas, pointing to where Sam had been crouched in the thicket of bushes.

“No. We’re just watching him here while he’s working. The employee’s park in the far lot over there,” said Dean pointing towards the parking area on the other side of the decrepit buildings. “The employees all change in that building over there. The rest were killed as they walked home. But Dave has a car. The lot is so close to the river. I expect that she’ll make a try for him as he heads for his car.”

“There will be witnesses,” said Cas, “Other kids walking to their cars.”

“She took Rosenwinkle in front of witnesses Cas.”

Cas nodded solemnly, as if suddenly remembering that this wasn’t a game.

As Cas gathered his things to leave, Dean’s eyes scanned the field below them, glancing at Dave and taking in the grassy field which was empty now. Fog had been settling into the low areas for the last half hour but now it was rolling in off the river and obscuring his vision in large patches. The village looked even spookier devoid of so many paying customers. There was still an occasional scream as the last few tourists made their way through the final buildings; but hearing the occasional scream pierce the night was somehow more eerie than hearing the flood of screams that had been constant all evening.

Dave was alone at his post and clearly waiting for the whistle that would signal the last guest leaving. That’s when he’d head back to the costuming area. Dean planned to accompany him and wait outside as he changed.

Cas leaned into him once, pressing their shoulders together for a moment, and then stood to leave. Dean glanced at his watch wondering what was taking Sam so long. Just as he considered it, he got a text from his brother.

“I’m at Dave’s car. Stay here and wait or come to you along the river?”

Before Dean could answer, he felt a hand drop to his shoulder. “Dean, look,” whispered Cas.

Dean pulled his attention from his phone to look up at Cas. The man was looking at the river. Dean followed his line of sight and his jaw dropped as he watched a black horse and rider emerge from the fog that swirled at the river bank. He stood and reached for his sawed off, “Stay here,” he commanded firmly to Cas as he stepped out of his hiding spot and into the open. Before his eyes, the horse’s walk turned to a trot and its headless rider unsheathed a sword.

Dean was running now, eyes switching back and forth between Dave and the horseman, gaging the distance and the speed of the attack. Darin was looking away, but Dean had eyes on him as he covered the open field between them, feet pounding on hard packed earth. He watched Dave as his head turned back towards the river and caught his first glimpse of dark vengeance thundering towards him. His chin dropped and he spun, dropping his lantern and stumbling into a run.

Dean veered to the right as his destination became a moving target. As Dave began to run, the rider leaned in and her horse easily pushed forward into a gallop, giving chase. Dean was close enough to both hear and feel the hoof beats on the ground. Aside from the rhythmic pounding of hooves, it was surprisingly quiet. Dave hadn’t even screamed. He was running though… as if his life depended on it… and sleek, black death was gaining on him, cape flapping behind.

Dean couldn’t get up enough speed to gain on them, so he pulled his arm up and took a sloppy shot as he ran. It may have hit the horse because Dean watched it stumble. He had one shot left before he’d have to reload. There would be no time to reload. One shot.

The split second that Dave had gained while the horse stumbled had put him a few strides ahead again, but the horse was recovered now and close… bearing down on him. As Dean pulled to a stop and lined up the shot, he watched the rider draw back the sword and ready her swing.

“Down!” he shouted to Dave. He exhaled and brought his focus to the target and trigger and took his best shot.

Nothing. He’d hit nothing. His feet were moving again, “Down!” he shouted for the second time, closing distance as he watched Dave finally hear his command and flop to the ground. The rider took her swing and sliced only air as Dave’s body flopped down and tumbled to the ground, rolling and somersaulting, finally flopping into a heap on the trampled grass.

The horseman’s gallop slowed as it passed the pile of arms and legs that Dave had landed in and began turning a wide circle to approach again. Dean was loading his weapon as he ran and was only a few paces from Dave when he locked his barrel. He pulled up swiftly and locked his body into shooters stance, feet shoulder width apart, knees unlocked, arms square over body. He stood ready, horseman dead center and moving toward him - picking up speed.

Out of Dean’s line of sight, a few yards to his left, Dave was moving again. Dean didn’t take his eyes from his target to watch Dave and see which way he’d run when he got to his feet. He focused himself and sighted the rider… but the shot wasn’t good. The costume hid the riders head completely and distorted the body to make it look taller. He’d have to aim low to be sure he actually hit anything and the horses head bobbed up and down with each step breaking his line of fire.

At the last minute, he glanced over to his charge. Dave was on his feet already and backing up slowly. Did he even realize he was setting himself up to be chopped? “Down!” shouted Dean again, but Dave wasn’t listening. He was turning. He was going to run again.

Dean turned back to the approaching adversary. The horse approaching was a terrifying sight. Steam shot forcefully from its nostrils with each breath. The whites of its eyes were showing as it bore down on them, beginning to turn and follow its victim who’d turned to flee.

The hoof beats were strong and loud and its rider, tall in her seat, was once again drawing back the sword. “Down!” Dean shouted again. They had talked about this earlier… but clearly in his blind panic the boy had forgotten everything the brothers had coached him on.

Dean trained his weapon on the rider, and smiled. The turning of the animal was giving him the shot he needed and he squeezed the trigger confidently this time.

He shouldered the kick of the weapon and stood firm as the rider’s body jolted from the impact and slid from the saddle. Her horse had leapt a bit at the sound of the rifle discharging and further swayed her center of gravity. She was falling towards Dean as the horse shot past him. She’d been close enough to touch as they brushed by… but he’d been too slow to secure hands on her. He turned and watched her fall as the horse continued to gallop back towards the river, bolting. Dean glanced at Dave before running towards the unhorsed rider. “Your car!” he shouted over his shoulder to the boy, “Get to your car! Sam’s there!”

Seeing Dave turn towards the lot and take off running, he ran towards the pile of black cape and collar on the ground which he knew to be Nicki. By the time he reached her, she was back on her feet. She strode forward, away from Dean and towards the river, towards her horse who was no longer visible in the thick fog.

As he approached her from behind, Dean’s instincts told him this was not Nicki. If the spirit had been knocked from her by his salt round, it was now back. She wasn’t walking like a college age girl who’d just fallen from a galloping horse. She was walking like a man possessed.

Dean lifted his rifle, prepared to put another round in her. That’s when she spun on him, having heard either his approaching steps or the click of his rifle as he’d readied it. In a blur, she twisted around and came at him. Her costume was twisted awkwardly on her body but it still obscured her head. Dean could see no face as he struggled to free his weapon from her iron grip.

He felt, more than he saw, her body shifting as she pulled back her other arm. Her weapon-bearing arm. He stepped back, relinquishing the riffle to her. He ducked to his left, to avoid the inevitable cross of her sword as she swung it and was already pulling the crowbar from his inner jacket pocket as she spun around to absorb the momentum from her blade-wielding arm as it connected with nothing but air.

It was at this moment that dean stepped in, and took a firm swing with his own weapon. He connected the iron crowbar to her gut with a sickening thwack. The sound was reminiscent of someone smashing a pumpkin on the street. He felt the connection to soft tissue. Guilt pressed in on him, knowing this was the body of an innocent young woman, who was nothing more than a puppet at this moment.

At impact, she began to crumble and Dean could feel the whoosh – the disturbance of air – as the spirit momentarily lost its grip on her and was ejected from her body. He fell to his knees and began tearing at the costume, trying to find her face.

As he reached between folds of material and felt for her neck his fingers bumbled into a strand of the necklace and curled around it, snapping it from her. She sank to the ground and he immediately dropped the necklace to the dead grass. He could hear thumping again, possibly his own pulse, but as Dean looked around he realized it had been foot falls.

Sam was running up on them, “Heard the shots!” he yelled as he slid to his knees next to them and pulled Nicki’s body into his lap. Dean watched his brother cradle her for half a second before returning his attention to the possessed necklace in the grass beside him.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small tin of Zippo lighter fluid. He didn’t pause, just doused he necklace and flicked his lighter. As the flames licked metal, Dean heard what he thought was a distant scream. He hoped that it was Darin. The spirit may be angry at having its revenge thwarted, but it could rest now. And so could Nicki.

Dean was breathing heavily as he watched Sam pull the costume from Nicki’s shoulders and run his fingers through her hair. _Poor Sammy_ , he thought.

The next breath found Dean’s mind flicking to Cas. He turned his head to look towards the hiding place on the hill where they’d been sitting and drinking coffee just a short while ago. No one was there. He looked around the expanse of the grassy field and saw no one. No Cas.

“Where’s Dave?” asked Sam.

“Sent him to you. He’s probably at his car.”

“You better go check on him. I’ll stay with her.”

Dean saw the look on his brother’s face and knew he was really asking for time alone with his girl. He nodded to his brother and stalked off between two buildings toward the parking lots. When he came around the corner, the scene was different. Dave was there and surrounded by a gaggle of costumed co-workers. As Dean walked up he could hear bits of the conversation. Dave was telling everyone he’d been attacked and still looked jumpy. When his eyes connected with Deans, he quieted and waited to hear what Dean had to say. The small crowd that had formed around the kid parted as Dean stepped up. He looked at the confused and anxious faces behind caked on make-up and period appropriate wigs.

“Stay here… all of you. Stay together. The cops will be here soon. You’ll all have to give a statement. No one leaves.”

He nodded to Dave and then turned back the way he’d come. When he turned the corner and arrived back where he’d left his brother and Nicki, he saw that Sam had pulled her to her feet. She looked stunned, but steady enough. She hugged Sam fiercely and over her head, Sam looked to Dean. “What’s going on out front?”

“Told everyone to stay put, and that the cops will be here soon. Once we get her outta here – I’ll call it in.”

“Dean?” it was Cas’ voice. He turned toward it and found Cas walking up – leading Nicki’s horse.

“Cas,” he said with relief. Their fingers brushed as Dean took the reins from him and turned toward his brother. “Can she ride?”

She nodded against his chest. Wasting no time, Sam helped her back up into the saddle. “Go straight home. I’ll meet you there.”

She nodded vaguely and turned the horse towards the river. All three men watched as she vanished into the fog.

Sam bent down and picked up abandoned remnants of her costume. He used it to smother the few licks of flames that had taken over the dry grass. Then he used the material of the cape to pick up the charred remains of the necklace. Both items would need to be discarded, but not here. Sam balled the mess up under his arms and began walking towards parking.

Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder and the two followed. Sam paused and looked back at the two. “Cas? Can you take Dean back?”

Cas nodded and Dean opened his mouth to speak. Sam cut him off, “You two should go the other way. Follow the river and avoid the crowd. I’m gonna take the car and go check in on Nicki… make sure she’s okay.”

“They’re gonna be lookin for us Sammy.”

“I know. Can you clear the hotel room?” he asked.

“Yeah. Better dump the phones by morning,” said Dean.

Sam nodded, “Meet you at Cas’ later,” he said.

Dean watched his brother as he walked away, evidence under his arm.

Dean, with a hand on his shoulder, turned Cas toward the river. “You okay?” Dean asked him as they started to walk.

“I’m fine.”

“Thanks for bringing the horse back.”

“It’s all I could think to do - to help,” he said honestly.

They walked quietly for a few paces before he spoke again, “What’s going to happen now, Dean?”

“We’ll call the cops when we’re out of the lot. They’ll come out and cord off the scene… look for clues… interview the witnesses. They’ll call us but we won’t answer. We’ll dump our phones and eventually they’ll call the bureau wondering why they haven’t heard from agents Bloom and Braunstein. The bureau will tell them we don’t exist. It will become an impersonation complaint.”

“But,” stammered Cas, “what about the case?”

“As far as we’re concerned… it’s closed. No one else will be dying at the hands of the Headless Horseman. That means we’re done here.”

“But the cops don’t know…” Cas’ voice trailed off.

“And they never will,” said Dean firmly as hey hurried along the misty river bank.

“So… as far as the police are concerned?”

“They’ll probably investigate for a while. Eventually the media circus will die out when the bodies stop showing up. They’ll likely never figure out who was really doing the killing.”

“No justice…” said Cas softly as they moved away from the water and toward the sodium vapor lights of the parking lot, “Nothing… nothing for the families of those that were killed… no resolution. No justice.”

“What’s justice Cas? Is it just for that girl to be caught and sentenced to life in prison for something she had no control over? Does that help the families Cas?”

Cas begrudgingly shook his head, obviously unsure about how to feel about all of it.

“Cas, no one who died was innocent of a crime. No one lived was really guilty of one… except maybe Dave. And he’ll have his horseman nightmares to keep him company for life now. I think we’re as close to justice as we can be.”

They climbed into Cas’ old truck together. Dean watched Cas turn the key and it sputtered to life under his hand. They motored out of the lot. Out of the horde of witnesses who were talking excitedly at the other end of the lot, only a few even turned their heads to watch Cas’ truck pull out.

“If the cops come to you and ask if you were here… don’t deny it. Say you took the tour and left. When you left, you noticed a bunch of employees clustering up but didn’t think much about it because you knew they were done for the night. Ok?”

“Okay Dean.”

“Don’t give any more information than you have to. If you repeat yourself – do it the same each time. They’ve got no reason to look any deeper than your statement.”

“Yes, Dean,” he said as he eased the truck out onto Broadway. “Where is your hotel?”

“Elsmford. Elmsford Hotel.”

They rode in silence for most of the trip. Dean had no idea what Cas was thinking. But he enjoyed the way they were pressed together in the cab of the truck, and tried not to think about how short their remaining time together would be.

Cas followed Dean into the room. It only took about two minutes to gather their things. As the two climbed back into the truck Cas said, “Don’t you need to like, wipe for prints?”

Dean grinned, “Waste of time, buddy. We’re already wanted.”

When they got back to Cas’ place, everything was dark. The last of the employees had left, extinguishing lights and locking doors as they’d gone. There were no cars in the parking area as they crossed it. Cas expertly navigated his old truck around and backed into the machine shed. Dean watched him heave his body forward to start the heavy door moving on its rollers. As it slammed shut, the night sounds quieted for a moment and then started back up again. The sound of crickets and cicada’s blanketed them in the darkness and the occasional croak of a toad or hoot of an owl played past their ears as they trekked across the property towards the safety of Cas’ cabin.

No one had spoken for a long time and for Dean the silence was a weight on his shoulders, growing heavier with each step. Soon Cas would begin asking him questions that were harder to answer. He walked through the door behind the man and smiled as he smelled the homey scent of smoke that always lingered because of the fireplace and the sweetness of the apples that Cas spent so much time finding uses for.

Pausing in the doorway as they both removed dirty boots, Cas said, “Will you make a fire, Dean?”

He nodded and headed for the hearth as Cas parted from him and moved out into the kitchen. He stared with small twigs from the basket and got those going before adding in some of the larger sticks that were propped up in the corner. When that was burning nicely, he laid two large logs on top and closed the glass.

From the kitchen Cas called to him, “What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having,” he called back. Dean looked around for a moment, waiting for Cas to join him. He glanced again at the pictures on the mantle. Now that he knew Cas better, he could piece together more about the people in the photos. There were many of Cas with the same two guys – likely the brothers that he’d mentioned. There was a frame devoted to an aerial view of the orchard. Next to it was the shot that Cas had made excuses for… the ‘before’ picture of the property that featured him and his ex-boyfriend Balthazar in the foreground. Dean felt warm just looking at the smile Cas was wearing in the picture – he’d seen it with his own eyes many times over the last few days. Cas’ radiant smile was infectious and he loved it.

A tea kettle whistled. The sharp sound of it brought his eyes from the picture and he moved on – looking at a few pictures hanging on the wall before he settled down on the couch. A moment later, Cas was walking towards him. He accepted a warm mug from Cas without meeting his eye. He hadn’t realized how cold he’d really been until feeling the heat of the ceramic mug between his hands. He gritted his teeth and sipped – expecting a nasty tea. Instead it was cider. It smelled incredible, steaming under his nose and he took careful swallows as he enjoyed the sweetness of it.

“How are you feeling, Cas?” he asked as he stared first at his mug and then at the fire.

“I’ll be ok. Thanks for asking.” It felt like Cas was closing the subject. But to Dean’s surprise, the man continued, “It wasn’t quite the night I imagined us having when I invited you to the Hollow.”

Dean nodded. The silence grew long and eventually he had to look up at Cas – despite not really wanting to see the look on the man’s face.

“How long do we have agent…” Cas’ voice trailed off and he took a deep breath, letting it out slow. “I don’t know why I keep wanting to call you ‘agent’.”

“Maybe because you don’t know my real name?”

There was no sound except the crackle of flames from the fireplace.

“It’s Winchester, just so you know. I’m Dean Winchester.”

Cas leaned across the eighteen inches of space between them and extended his hand, “Nice to meet you Dean Winchester.” And with that, all the tension melted away. Dean took Cas’ hand and shook it. But he also didn’t let go of it. He leaned over to set his cup down and then wrapped both of his hands around Cas’, turning his body and his full attention to him.

“I’m sorry, Cas.” He whispered quietly.

“For what?”

“For lying to you. For involving you in a case… and for leaving you.”

“You haven’t left me yet,” said Cas – giving Dean that elusive flicker of a smile that came and went in a heartbeat.

“I know. But I will. Whether I want to or not.”

“Well then,” said Cas as he shifted closer, “Call me and apologize after. I’m going to need it.”

Dean didn’t pull away when Cas brought their lips together. He plunged his tongue in with reckless abandon, deciding to take all that Cas was willing to give him and be sorry later.

Dean wasn’t gentle. Didn’t have to be. The body in his arms was strong – his equal. He pressed in with a growl in his throat, leaning into the first man he’d ever allowed himself to touch like this. There was something special about Cas – something that made it more than just the fulfillment of an elusive fantasy. There was something very _right_ about this… about them together. The feeling brought surety with it. A sense that things would somehow be okay – even if logic resisted the thought.

Cas’ lips were chapped from being outside but they were soft and Dean felt himself sinking deeper as their tongues slid against one another – seeking, exploring. Cas pulled his hand from between Deans and wrapped his arms around Deans shoulders – pulling him forward as Cas leaned back. Dean followed through, bringing his legs up and putting his knees into the couch as was pulled prone over the older man.

He settled his weight on Cas – feeling the man’s legs spread for him as he lowered himself. The action was reminiscent of many times before but was undeniably different; his stomach dropped in anticipation of what would come next. The body beneath him was hard – from shoulders and chest to hips and legs. As they kissed, their stubble rubbed together, a slight burn to go with the sweetness of gentle lips and flicking tongues.

Dean felt his dick come to life, heat gathering in his groin as he adjusted himself to get comfortable. They sank into the couch together – hot bodies and cold hands. Dean inhaled sharply when Cas’ freezing fingers slipped up inside his shirt to skim over his back. There were no apologies… only the sound of two grown men breathing faster as they became overwhelmed with lust.

Dean really didn’t know what to do next… this is the part where he normally starts working the girl out of her clothes. But with a man? He’s not sure what to do. He’s uncertain for the first time since he was 13. It’s horrible and it’s wonderful. He loves the not knowing.

Pushing up on one elbow, Dean pulls away from their lip lock and smiles at the shiny spit-slick mouth panting out hot breath on his face. Cinnamon… always cinnamon. Cas is delicious. Dean brings his free hand to Cas’ collar and undoes the first button, feels Cas copy the movement. That’s when his phone goes off.

Dean closes his eyes, wishing it away, but he can’t. He’s compelled to look. He gives Cas a look that he hopes communicates how much he _doesn’t_ want to stop. And then he backs up onto his haunches and pulls out his phone. It’s a message from Sam.

“How long will you give me?”

Dean smiles at Cas warmly and then tips his head down to type out his answer…

“Take all night.”


	6. Apple Pie Life

 

In the comfort of Cas’ homey cabin, next to a roaring fire, Dean had texted Sam to take all night with Nicki… and it wasn’t because he’d changed his mind about how toxic it was to try and form relationships while hunting.

With his message sent, Dean looked up from his phone and focused again on Cas. He found the man’s stormy blue eyes locked intently on him and he looked delicious spread out on the couch with his shirt partially undone.  A peek of glowing warm skin showed at the parted collar and his shirt was riding up at the waist too – revealing a sliver of smooth skin and a small patch of soft treasure trail that lead down into the man’s jeans. Dean’s mouth was watering as he took in the sight and he had to swallow hard and clear his throat before he was able to say, “Looks like I’m yours for the night, if you want me?”

Cas pursed his mouth as if the idea of not wanting Dean was absurd. Dean was still perched on his haunches with his phone in his hand and before he even had a chance to move, Cas was extracting his legs from either side of Deans body and rising from the couch. Dean didn’t take his eyes off of Cas as the man stood tall above him and extended a hand, “You may as well come to my room then.”

Dean took the hand offered and let Cas pull him to his feet. Then he followed his host, abandoning the soft glow of the living room and leaving their cider unfinished. In front of him, Cas stripped his shirt off as he walked down the darkened hallway, letting it fall from his shoulders behind him, seeming to know that Dean’s attention was riveted on him. Cas’ back was muscular, defined and smooth. Dean ached to run his finger down that spine.

With a glance back at Dean, Cas turned and stepped through a doorway. Dean followed and found himself in a large bedroom. The over sized bed took up a lot of space and the room was banked in windows with sheer white curtains. Moonlight seeped in, lending the space a blueish tinge. It was cool compared to the warmth of the living room.

Dean watched Cas move to the bureau and light a match, opening the door of a lantern to light it. The small flame grew large as it caught and smoke billowed from the top until Cas adjusted the wick. When he’d finished, he looked back at Dean. Their eyes locked for a moment as if both were appreciating the moment for what it was and savoring it.

Dean felt anticipation curl in his stomach as Cas strode towards him. He was also a bit nervous, but he tamped it down and tried to focus on being _present_. He wanted to remember everything… all of it. Every kiss. Every touch. He’d never been with a man, despite the fantasies that plagued him. There had always been the shadow of his father as they’d hunted – even when separated for a few days the man’s presence had never really left Dean. John Winchester had seemed to encourage Dean’s one night stands… essentially proud of his son’s prowess. Perhaps it reminded him of his young and single days before settling down with Mary. He’d always grin as he watched Dean exit the bar or diner with an eager young lady. But nothing had ever been said about men; Dean didn’t need to broach the subject to know what his father would have to say about it. That path was forbidden without discussion.

Even with his father gone now, there was his memory to honor. A brave man who had done his best under the worst of circumstances. And, for almost two years now, there had been Sam. His brother was a reassuring presence in his life. But that presence had the same stifling effect that his father’s had. It kept Dean from even considering the idea of a man. No looking. No touching. Only the most silent of fantasies as he jerked off… or hovered on the brink between sleep and waking.

Now, his brother had given him something he’d never expected. Permission. Permission to be himself. To do as he pleased. And here was Cas – the most intriguing and beguiling man he’d ever met. And that man was watching him carefully as he moved closer in the lamplight, achingly slow. Dean could only gaze, captivated as two hands reached out for him and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Even this small act was vastly different from Dean’s past experiences. Cas started at the bottom button and worked his way up. No one had ever done that before. Chicks always started at the top. It was a strange thing to notice, but Dean was hyper focused. He missed nothing. He watched Cas’ face as his buttons were popped and saw that flicker of a smile return when he was able to push Deans shirt back off his shoulders and let it fall.

It was so quiet here that even the muted sound of his flannel hitting the floor noticeable. They stood close now, two bare-chested men, both trying to control their breathing as they took in the sight of each other. Cas encircled Deans wrist gently and pulled him forward. “Dean Winchester,” he said in a deep and rumbling timbre, “We’re alone in my bedroom and we have all night. What do you want to do with me?”

Dean’s dick twitched and began to fill at the mere implication of Cas’ words. His mind supplied him with an onslaught of images… but what did he want? A few of his more exciting fantasies pushed to the forefront of his mind…

He saw himself on his knees – taking a cock so deep that his eyes were watering as he tried to swallow around it. He saw himself bent over the back of a couch, screaming in pleasure as he was fucked raw. He saw himself on his back, on his stomach, sweating, writhing and as his mind reeled with the possibilities he felt himself growing a bit light headed. He needed to get off his feet. And he needed to answer the question he’d been asked. What did he want to do with Cas?

“So much…” he answered honestly, “…don’t know where to start. Just know that I want you.”

“I want you too Dean,” said the man as he placed confident hands on Dean's body and turned him. With a feather light touch Cas eased Dean down onto the bed in a seated position and dropped to his knees between his legs.

Dean watched, feeling insecure and overwhelmed as experienced hands moved to his fly and began unzipping. His engorged cock practically pushed its way out as the enclosure around it was parted. The sound of the zipper was obscene in the quiet. Cas looked up at him from below and smiled, waiting. _Waiting for what?_ \- Dean wondered. It took a distended moment before he realized he needed to lift his hips from mattress or Cas would be able to disrobe him no further.

Catching on, he leaned back on his elbows and lifted himself. He felt the man’s hands slide up his ass and then cool fingers curled into the material at his waist and began tugging his pants down, briefs and all. Once Dean was naked, Cas lifted one leg at a time and took Deans socks off for him. All the while, his eyes never moved from Dean’s hardened cock.

Involuntarily, Dean shivered. He watched Cas stand up straight and tall and move to stand between his legs again. The sound of another zipper cut through the silence and Dean’s eyes were glued to the source of that noise – tingles of anticipation crept up his spine as he waited to see what Cas’ package would look like. Even with the zipper down, Dean was still kept waiting because Cas slid his hand down inside his cotton boxer briefs and began touching himself. His heart hammered loudly in his rib cage as Dean watched and his friend play with himself. His body ached to reach out and yank those pants down… put an end to the suspense… the torture of having to wait.

“What are you waiting for Dean?” whispered Cas, “This is yours. Take it. Do what you want with it.”

Strung out as he was, Dean needed no further invitation. He heaved himself forward and roughly jerked the man’s pants down to his knees. A huge and heavy cock tipped forward and Dean seized it with reckless abandon. He didn’t even lick his lips first… just opened up and dove onto his man’s dick like it was food for the starving. He gulped at it – unable to get his mouth down far enough to please himself. Then, coming to his senses, he pulled back and began working to wet the entire thing… to ease the irritation of his lips dragging on dry skin. As he laved his tongue over warm flesh, he started to get used to how it felt.

Cas was rock-hard but his skin was soft and velvety. It felt incredible on his tongue. Dean hadn’t expected to enjoy the taste as much as he did. It was virile. Masculine. The musky scent took him over as he inhaled deeply with his nose buried in Cas' thick bush. His hands slid down and around to cup the fine ass he’d checked out the day he met this man. In his enthusiasm, Dean impaled himself on Cas’ slippery cock. He found that as he continued to push farther – take it deeper- he could send shivers down his own spine.

The thrill of a hard dick bumping the back of his throat was unexpected. He loved what he was doing… and he loved knowing how good it felt for Cas. Dean’s no stranger to good head – he’s had his share. And he knows that experience doesn’t matter. What matters is how eager your partner is. A first timer can give a better blow job than someone very experienced… if the mouth is eager. And Dean was eager. He was dripping from his dick like a slow leaking faucet and he smiled around the throbbing cock in his mouth. Cas was breathing hard now and Dean’s chest swelled with pride, knowing that he was doing well… that he was pleasing Cas.

Dean pulled off for a moment to take a deep breath and only then did he realize that half of his face was wet and his chin was dripping. He was even more surprised to realize that he loved it. He plunged down again and sucked for all he was worth. Using his lips to cushion between his teeth and Cas' shaft, he pushed down hard, taking the full length of his man as far as he could go. Then he pulled back sucked passionately on the upstroke. Cas was moaning now – companion noise for the obscene slurping and sucking noises that Dean was making as he began working up and down faster and faster.

The first time Cas snapped his hips forward into Dean, he saw stars. Literally saw stars. He gagged forcefully and it was everything he'd always imagined it would be. Lewd. Erotic. Pornographic. Overcome with heady lust, he gripped Cas’ ass and pulled the man closer still, encouraging him to fuck forward into his ready mouth. He choked again felt the pin pricks of tears in his eyes as Cas repeated the action. Again and again. He couldn’t get enough.

When he felt Cas’ fingers card through his hair, he took it for what it was. Petting. Cas was revealing through touch what he wasn't going to be saying with his mouth… that Dean was a good boy. That Dean was pleasing him immensely. That Cas will soon lose all control if Dean kept this up. For the second time, Dean found himself smiling around Cas’ cock. When the fingers tightened in his hair – he finally pulled off.

Looking up, Dean saw Cas lost in the moment and watched as the man slowly regained his composure and opened his eyes. No one spoke, but their gaze stayed locked on one another as Dean began pulling his legs up on the bed and scuttling backwards toward the pillows. Cas followed – his eyes wild with desire and his body rippling with restraint as he worked to keep from springing.

Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Cas coming for him. He was momentarily confused when the man's attention seemed to divert elsewhere, but soon realized that he was just reaching for lube and condoms. As he heard the cap snap open, Dean’s heart began to race. _Holy shit. This is really going to happen._

Laying on his back, Dean lifted his head from the pillows to watch what Cas would do next. The man climbed onto Dean like he was mounting a horse. He had a puddle of lube in his hand, and a wicked smirk on his face as he drug two fingers through the slick in his palm. Dean’s attention was riveted on Cas as one hand disappeared behind his lovers back. It was easy to imagine what he couldn't see - Cas riding his own fingers. Then, Cas' other hand which held an abundance of cool slippery lube, wraped around Dean’s neglected cock. He began a slow and steady stroke.

Unwillingly, Dean’s eyes fell shut and his head dropped back to the pillow. The man’s steady hand was sliding along his shaft lightly and in response, Dean’s entire body began to hum. Waves of warm pleasure rolled over him. His stomach started to clench as Cas’ fist got progressively tighter. With speed increasing, Dean was unable to focus on anything but the steady build of pleasure which was churning lower and lower in his stomach. He couldn’t keep quiet and he couldn’t keep still.

The easy slide of Cas’ hand slowly gave way to increased friction and Dean was about to ask for more lube when Cas went still. He was stunned into silence as he watched Cas open a condom and position it over Deans swollen cock. Cas worked intently, rolling it down the shaft with firm fingers before coating in even more lube. Then he moved up toward the headboard, one knee on either side of Dean’s chest. Cas’ impressive cock, thick and hard and heavy, was swaying before his eyes - almost close enough to lick.

Cas had both hands working behind his back, lining them up. Dean could see nothing of what was happening, but his eyes gobbled up the sight of a gorgeous naked man, straddling him and moaning while a thick dick bobbed between their bodies. Dean felt like a snake to the charmer as he watched Cas' package dip and sway before him. Then it moved away from him… and Dean realized why. Cas was easing back. Dean felt his jaw drop as Cas held Dean's cock in one hand and began to impale himself onto it.

“Aarrgghh,” he cried as he felt the pressure of Cas sitting down on his dick. There was a surge of pleasure on Dean's crown as Cas’ puckered entrance rested there for a moment, poised on the brink. Dean tried to take a calming breath but his body was rigid, locked up in anticipation when his greedy cock finally pushed through the entrance. He cried out as he felt himself burst past the tight ring of muscles and his subsequent breaths came out as bursts... a rough and uneven panting as Cas began working his body lower, an inch at a time. The sensation was indescribable as Cas continued to take in more and more of him. Finally he came to rest on Dean’s supine body.

“Cas,” he called out weakly. He forced his eyes open to admire the stunning man on top of him and drank in the sight... tried to memorize the details.

Needing to connect with the man, wanting no distance between them, Dean reached with both hands. He didn’t even realize what he was reaching for until he found it. Cas met him halfway and locked their hands together, interlacing their fingers and grasping tightly as he began to move. From that moment on, Dean was lost for anything but to hold on.

This was sensory overload. He couldn’t keep his eyes open for long against the relentless pleasure that spiked repeatedly as Cas rode him. They called to each other as their speed increased. The swirling maelstrom in his stomach dipped lower and he tried to hold back but it was over. His body betrayed him and let go - locking into a hard line as he emptied himself into Cas.

Cas continued to move on him through his orgasm but Dean’s hands felt empty without Cas to hang on to so he grabbed the man’s knees. When the first wave had passed, he opened his eyes and saw it. The most erotic thing he’s ever seen in his life…

Cas. Cas with his eyes shut and his mouth open, head thrown back. His bicep was flexed as he fisted his own dick, jacking himself hard and fast while he came on Dean’s cock. It was a magnificent sight. Messy too. The jizz spattered across Dean’s chest… warm and wet. But the look on Cas’ face, that was what really held his attention.

When the man’s eyes finally opened and found Dean staring at him, they both smiled. Cas leaned forward and Dean felt himself slide out. The air was cold on his wet dick and as Cas rolled off of him, he quickly reached down to pull off the condom.

Beside him Cas seemed to be settling in and despite the need to clean up, Dean couldn’t bring himself to get up from the bed. He dropped the latex mess to the floor and promised himself that he’d be the one to retrieve it when they woke. Then he lifted his body as he noticed Cas tugging at the covers and they slid down together into the soft covers. Without speaking, the two entwined their limbs and cleaned their bellies with a far corner of the sheet as they hunkered down under the blankets. Silence once again filled the room as they came down together and begin sinking into oblivion. Not wanting to let important things go unsaid, Dean forced himself to interrupt their perfect peace.

“Cas?”

“Don’t do it,” whispered Cas next to him, “Not yet.”

Dean didn't press the issue or question things. He simply held the man tighter, knowing that morning would come too soon. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Cas’ temple for a lingering moment, hoping that the sweetness of the gesture would say all that he couldn’t.

 

 

 

Morning came early at Cas’ place. Dean heard the man’s phone going off before it was even fully light outside. Unwilling to relinquish his man to the encroaching day – Dean kept a hand on the small of Cas’ back as he lurched to the nightstand to silence the device. He recoiled back to Dean then, with his phone glowing in his hands, and huffed as he read the message.

“What is it?” asked Dean, curious.

“Charlie, the head of my crew, is running out of time cards.”

“He’s already here and working?” asked Dean as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“She. She is already here and working. The crew works from sun up til sundown.”

“Those are some rough hours,” commented Dean as he rolled over and wrapped his arm around Cas’ waist. Being naked in the bed all night was a change - he’d spent most of his life sharing hotel rooms with his brother, father or both. So sleeping nude was strange. He woke several times feeling unsettled because of it. But each time, he smiled and as he remembered where he was and what events had led him here.

The men had barely allowed an inch between them as they’d slept. If one turned over, the other would turn too. They alternated big and little spoon all night long. Now, they faced one another, legs interlocked with one over and one under. Dean smiled as Cas pressed his head in under Deans chin. He dipped to inhale the scent of Cas’ soft hair and place a kiss there. This was cuddling. There was no denying it and no other name to give it. Dean tried hard to hate it but he couldn’t. Too soon, Cas’ phone went off again.

Dean really hated to feel the man pull away from him, but he allowed it. He sat up too – looking around. The room was getting lighter by the second as the day broke on the other side of the thin curtains. Cas tapped out a message and then dropped his phone on the nightstand and swung his legs out of bed. The desire to reach out and pull him back in was strong. But Dean followed Cas' lead instead.

He was rewarded with a long, hot shower. And, the gratification of another fantasy come to life. He’d often wondered what it might be like to stand under the shower head with another man and jerk each other off. Now he knew. And it was every bit as good as he’d ever imagined it to be. It wasn’t just an upgrade from his usual shower jerk. It was more. It was the intimacy of shared personal space, the closeness of feeling himself wake up with another. It wasn’t the shameful act of just getting off in the most convenient place. It was the beginning of a bright new day. Dean ached with the wish that all his days could start like this.

As they toweled off together, Dean let his mind wander back to his fantasy from the previous night; The one where he’d imagined Cas joining him and Sam on the road – hunting with them. As much as he liked the idea – Cas didn’t belong in that life. Cas deserved better. Cas loved this place and wasn’t inclined to leave it, not even for his own brothers. Why would he leave it for Dean whom he’d only just met?

Once dressed, they moved to the kitchen. Dean made himself at home, putting on coffee while Cas busied himself at the stove. By the time Sam texted him, Dean was sitting at the table with Cas and tucking in pancakes with homemade apple butter. “This is delicious,” hummed Dean between bites.

Cas nodded slowly and sat back to sip his coffee.

“How long do we have before you have to get to work?” Dean questioned tentatively.

“I’m not bound to a schedule Dean.”

Reading between the lines, Dean guessed that Cas was saying he'd stay until the inevitable good bye and milk the last of their time for all it was worth. He tipped the last of his coffee back and then stood, carrying his plate to the sink. Cas was behind him, doing the same. Unsure of why he was doing it, Dean began filling the sink with water to wash up the breakfast dishes. Cas wiped the table and counters. They worked in companionable silence. When he’d let the water drain out, he leaned on the counter, turning his attention to Cas.

The man was hovering around the stove and there was a huge stock pot on the burner. He watched Cas pulling things out of cabinets, including a large box of canning jars.

“What are you making?”

“Apple pie.”

“You make apple pie with Everclear?” chuckled Dean, noticing the bottle on the counter.

“Yep. It’s a beverage. The Orchard has a booth up town next to the beer garden on Halloween. We sell these shots there… it’s wildly popular. We make money hand over fist,” he said, not looking up at Dean as he worked.

“This is 190 proof, Cas. Bet this puts the town on its ass!” Dean laughed. “But Halloween isn’t for days…” Dean’s voice trailed off, wondering why Cas was choosing to do this now. It meant something, he just didn’t know what.

“I know, Dean. I just…” he finally stopped moving and looked up. Dean saw the radiant smile from a moment ago fade and hurt settle into the man’s sapphire blue eyes. “…needed something to do with my hands, I guess. Besides, this is what I was going to do today,” and with a nod, Cas turned back to the stove and resumed his work. Dean leaned on the counter for a moment.

“Is it time?” he asked.                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Cas didn’t speak, but he nodded.  Obviously it was time to say the things he hadn’t said last night… that this had been incredible, but it was ending. That Sam would be here soon to take him away and this would all become a memory. It was time to acknowledge that Zar wasn’t the last man who would leave Cas. Dean felt it like a kick to the gut. As bad as he’d known this moment would be – it was worse.

“For what it’s worth,” Dean began, “I don’t want to leave you. But there’s things I need to do. Evil stuff that needs killing. People that need saving. I can’t just forget all that and snuggle up by the fire with you… no matter how much I might want to.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know _agent_.” Bristled Cas.

Dean nodded. The man’s anger was fair, and Dean wouldn’t deny him his right to it. He stepped away though, unable to stand in the presence of it any longer. He retreated from the kitchen and back to the fireplace. There was still a bit of ember glowing under the ash pile from last night’s fire. Dean sat down on the couch and pulled out his phone to text Sam.

“Time to rip off the Band-Aid.”

Sam’s reply was immediate. “I know.”

 

 

 

Dean went back to Cas’ room and checked to be sure he'd retrieved all his things. Remembering his promise to himself, he knelt to the floor and picked up the nasty condom mess, wrapping it in toilet paper and disposing of it in the bathroom where they’d showered together less than two hours ago. Now, he took one last look around Cas’ room and his heart broke for the nights he wouldn’t get to spend here.

He moved back to the living room and looked around. From where he stood, he could see Cas’ profile, stirring his pot, which was filling the cabin with the scent of cider. Dean worked up his courage and moved back to the kitchen. Cas didn’t speak or turn, but Dean felt him relax his posture as he pressed his lips to the back of the man’s neck. “I’m sorry, Cas,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“I’ll think of you…” Dean meant to say ‘often’ but the words just stuck in his throat. It was cop out anyway. Just then, the sound of the Impala’s heavy engine cut through the tension. This was it. He leaned in a little, sliding his arms around Cas from behind and resting his head on the man’s back for a moment as he embraced him. Cas stopped stirring but made no move to return the embrace. As Dean stepped away, Cas kept his back to him. But he did speak.

“That’s for you,” he said, “on the table. Please take it.”

Dean looked over and saw a pie tin wrapped up in cellophane. He blinked back tears as he reached for it and walked out of the kitchen. With pie in one hand, he walked out the door of Cas’ cabin and forced himself not to look back.

Sliding into the passenger side of the Impala, he held his pie on his lap. It was impossible to look at Sam as they swung wide and drove off the property. It was all he could do to keep his misty eyes from shedding actual tears in front of his little brother, and it was a long time before either spoke. They were almost back to the interstate that would carry them over the Hudson when Sam broke their silence.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah. This life, huh?”

“Yeah. Did you call Bobby?” Dean asked – trying to change the subject.

“Yep. He said there’s some cattle mutilations in Montana. We’re supposed to call him for an update when we get close.”

“Can’t wait,” said Dean, turning the pie in his hands. “How is she?”

“She’s a mess… just like you’d expect after everything that’s happened to her. But she’s scrappy. And she’s got a plan. She’ll be okay.”

“What’s the plan?”

“She’s going to sell the place and go back to school. Reclaim her life – what’s left of it.” Dean nodded watching the trees roll past his window as Sam drove them south. City buildings started popping up as they neared the main thoroughfares that connected the many metropolises of New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Montana was a long drive from here. Far too many hours for his body to be still and his mind to spin circles around what he’s shared with Cas.

To his credit, Sammy wasn’t looking at him any differently, despite knowing what Dean had gotten up to last night. Both men were silent as they drove over the vast and polluted waters of the Hudson River. Dean’s eyes flicked several times to the glove box. There was still a bottle of Sleepy Hollow honey riding along with them. Dean’s reluctance to open the honey had stemmed from not wanting to waste it, because he’d had no way to store or preserve it. But several times now, he’d taken that bottle out and tasted it. The cap hadn’t leaked and the product hadn’t spoiled. He pulled it out now and turned it in his hand, thinking of how incredible he’d felt when he’d received it and realized the attraction wasn’t as one-sided as he’d initially thought. The moment with the honey lingered on his mind… the moment when he realized that Cas was interested in him _that way_.

Since he’d finished high school Dean had joked about the life he’d given up for hunting. “Apple pie life” he’d frequently called it. Never before had that expression been so well suited to describe the life he was giving up. Never before had he actually found himself wanting it. Really _wanting_ it. Belatedly it occurred to him that the reason his so-called ‘Apple pie life’ had been so easy to give up is because when he’d coined the phrase, he’d been picturing a woman and a family… someone like his mother and a house like they’d had in Lawrence. Someone with long hair and lipstick to peck his cheek each day as he headed off to work. But that wasn’t a life he really wanted. If he was honest, he’d take the hunting life over a wife and kids any day of the week. After all, the job wasn’t without it perks. He loved the guns and weapons… the action and excitement. He thrived on it. He loved the open road: sitting behind the wheel of his Baby with a highway stretched out before him.

But now, thanks to Cas, he had a new picture of what ‘Apple pie life’ could be. It was bittersweet.  Dean let his mind wander for a moment – considering what that life would be like. Cas… with his easy ways and kind heart… a wide expanse of land and work to be done with calloused hands… apple pie quite literally - all he could ever hope to eat… along with every other apple confection Cas could dream up… and homemade beer… and 190 proof apple flavored shots… days and nights of the best fucking sex he’d ever had. Ever.

It was a lot he was giving up and the weight of it settled onto his shoulders like a heavy backpack. It also gave him a new insight into his brother. Sam had been clear from the start about what he wanted. The dream that Dean had just discovered? It had been Sam’s all along. His brother had never minced words about what he wanted out of life. And now, Dean could appreciate it even more… the loss of it for both himself and for Sam.

“I’m sorry Sammy,” he said as they rolled off the bridge and into traffic.

“You warned me,” Sam replied with a stiff chin.

“Shoulda taken a big fat helping of my own advice,” huffed Dean. He sucked down a few drops of honey and moved to put it back in the glove box.  That’s when it occurred to him that the honey hadn’t been wasted. It was still here – warm in his hands. He’d been keeping it in the only place it fit. His glove box. And it wasn’t any less sweet now than it had been days ago. A new metaphor was shaping up in Deans mind. He could have the honey. Just because he didn’t have a fridge to put it in didn’t mean he had to throw it away. He’d tuck it back in the glove box and keep it as long as he could. And in the same way, he could keep Cas too. He could call, text and visit for as long as that worked. Today didn’t have to be good-bye.

He looked across the seat at Sam. “Go back.”

“What?”

“Go back. Turn around and go back.”

“Why, what are you gonna do?” his brother questioned as he pulled into a service station to turn around.

“I shouldn’t have left things that way. Get me back there Sammy.”

As they navigated back over the bridge and worked their way north from big roads to small ones, Dean thought long and hard about what he’d say to Cas when they got there. Thirty minutes later when Sam took a right into Sleepy Hollow Orchard, Dean still had no idea. But they parked outside the little barn-turned-shop and stepped out of the car. Dean set his pie on the seat and shut the door. “I’ll be back,” he hollered over his shoulder to Sam as he began running up the hill that kept Cas’ cabin isolated. He crested it and came down the slope pushing faster, took the cabin steps two at a time and thundered up to the door. He paused for a moment – wondering if he should knock - but he didn’t. He shoved the door open and yelled out, “Cas?”

The man stepped into the doorway that separated the living room and kitchen. “Dean?”

Both were frozen for a moment. Then Dean took a step and then watched as Cas took one… then they started moving. Dean took large strides to cover the distance between them. He didn’t speak. There was simply nothing he could think to say. He paused for beat as they stepped up to one another and then sank forward, pulling the man into his arms and burying his face in the collar of Cas’ soft flannel work shirt. Their embrace stayed tight for a few moments and then as Dean pulled away, he said, “I’m not here to offer you anything a sane person would want. But I’m hoping you’ll take it anyway.”

Cas smiled warmly at him, keeping Dean in the circle of his arms, “What are you offering Dean?”

“Me, Cas. You can have me if you can accept me as I am.”

“I already do. I let you leave me, didn’t I?”

Dean smiled before he could help it – loving the smile that slowly spread on Cas’ face in return. “I can’t promise you much,” said Dean carefully, “I have no idea when I can see you again or how long I can stay when I come. I can only promise you that I’ll be thinking of you as if you’re mine. And that when you go to bed alone at night… there will be someone who’s wishing he was with you.”

Dean felt Cas’ arms tighten around him and closed his eyes to savor it as their lips found each other. Dean made an undignified and needy noise as they kissed, and couldn’t bring himself to care.

When they put Sleepy Hollow Orchard in their rear view mirror for the second time that day, Dean looked over at Sam who was now in the passenger seat. “You didn’t ask to go to Nicki’s,” he said quietly.

“Guess I said my good-bye right the first time,” said Sam smugly.

Not to be outdone, Dean glanced at the fresh-baked goods in his brother’s lap and fired back, “Mine got us a pie.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas’ Apple Pie Recipe:
> 
> 1 gallon apple cider  
> 1 gallon apple juice  
> 1 ½ cups granulated sugar  
> 1 ½ cups brown sugar  
> 8 cinnamon sticks  
> 1 bottle (750ml) 190 proof grain alcohol (Everclear)
> 
> Combine all ingredients in a stock pot (except alcohol) and bring to boil. Remove the mixture from heat and let cool to room temperature. Add the alcohol. Transfer to sterile canning jars and add a cinnamon stick or two to each jar.  
> Ready to drink immediately, but best flavor after storage for 2-3 weeks. This is usually served cold in a shot glass but can be served warm as well. Drink with caution – you can’t really taste the alcohol so you don’t always realize how much your drinking. It will put you on your ass!

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment? I love to hear what you think as you read!


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